


Black Magic, Love, and Other Unexplainable Sensations

by gleesquid



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Gen, Giant Spiders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, True Love, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 04:44:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: Once upon a time, a handsome prince needed a fearsome warrior's help to save the entire kingdom. Peter Parker is not entirely sure how he fits into this.





	Black Magic, Love, and Other Unexplainable Sensations

**Author's Note:**

> I originally began this for the Spideytorch Week theme "Journeys" and then it blossomed far out of my control, but I think the theme of a journey still stands. My personal journey follows a way to become a person who is capable of writing something without failing a class. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

PROLOGUE: 

 

Once upon a time, a family lived in a castle, and this family ruled the kingdom of Fantastica with kindness and grace.

There was King Reed, the wisest man in all the land. Leaders from every nation would seek counsel with the King, but Reed often preferred to use his talents by thinking of new ways to improve the lives of his subjects.

Queen Susan the Good was known throughout the world for her compassion. But while foreign powers attempted to use her kindness against her, they did not realize that with her with kindness came an unparalleled devotion to protecting her family – and her kingdom.

It was rumored that Duke Benjamin the Strong once lifted an entire cartload of lumber off of the beloved sculptor Alicia as she lay, trapped and pained, beneath it. What no one knew except for Benjamin, Alicia, and the cart driver, was that he had carried her for miles, through a snow storm, back to the castle where she could rest until she was well enough to journey home.

And then there was Prince Jonathan the Brave. Jonathan was worthy of his title, but the villagers often joked that he should be Prince Johnny the Foolish, for there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity, a line Jonathan toed each day. But if King Reed the Wise trusted the Prince, the villagers knew they could too (and besides, more than one village girl dreamed of the day when the Prince might sweep her off her feet).

These were the four who ruled Fantastica and they were beloved . . . by most.

King Victor of Latveria had once been Fantastica’s greatest ally, and King Reed’s closest confidant. But jealousy and vengefulness drove Victor to the brink of madness. He swore that the ruling family would pay for the scars on his face, even as he carefully covered the scars on his heart. He vowed to the heavens, to his people, to himself that one day he would bring about the downfall of Fantastica.

And he did.

 

 

 

“Peter, come down from there. You’re going to get hurt.”

Peter looked down at Mary Jane. Her scarlet hair matched the pail of berries she carried and her brown skin was peppered with freckles that, today at least, she couldn’t be bothered to conceal. She looked at him with a frown twisting her lips, even as her eyes seemed to sparkle with something undefinable.

The way the sun hit her through the canopy of leaves, she didn’t look human. She looked like a phoenix that had taken the form of a girl.

“Won’t you make me, Mary Jane?” Peter asked, climbing to the next branch.

For a moment, Peter didn’t think MJ would take the dare. He thought she would take the berries she had gathered, and maybe the ones he had gathered too, turn on her heel, and march back to the village where she could actually get something _done_.

But he really should have known MJ better.

A smile stretched across her face, and then she was setting the pail on the ground and reaching up to grab a branch. Peter held out a hand for her and she took it, allowing him to hoist her further into the treetop. They climbed higher and higher, giggling like they were children again, loving the burn in their arms and the scratches on their palms. A _riiiip_ tore through the forest as MJ lost the hem of her dress.

“My mother is gonna kill me,” she said, stopping the climb to examine the offending fabric.

“Here.” Peter steadied himself against a thick branch and leaned over to rip the fabric clean off. It was a little frayed, but he could fix that once they went back home. “There. You just trimmed the hemline a little. I hear that’s what’s all the rage.”

“Aw, Pete. This is why _you’re_ the genius.”

Peter straightened and when he met MJ’s eyes, they were suddenly much too close. She looked at him like – like no one had ever looked at him before. Like he used to pray Liz might look at him when they were kids. Like he thought Betty could look at him, if she hadn’t gotten to know him. But MJ knew him, better than anyone except his aunt. MJ knew him and she stood here in a tree with him, looking at him like – like he was something worth looking at.

Before he knew it, he was leaning forward. He only saw MJ’s eyes widen and then – 

“ _Ow,_ ” she moaned, horizontal on the dirt ground.

Peter jumped down from the tree, immediately at her side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frantically checking for any bones that seemed misplaced.

“I’m fine,” she said. “You should see the other guy.”

That startled a laugh out of Peter, and MJ smiled.

“Mary Jane . . .” he said.

She tangled her fingers in his. “Let’s go home, okay? Those berries aren’t gonna make themselves into a pie.”

Peter wanted to argue. He wanted to ask her what she was feeling and demand she give him a straight answer for once. But instead he pulled her to her feet and they walked back into town.

 

When they reached their street, Liz seemed to appear out of the woodworks. She grabbed the berries from Peter with one hand, looped her other around MJ’s waist, and left for the bakery with nothing but a saucy wink at Peter over her shoulder. Despite himself, Peter laughed.

He strolled down the cobblestone road, taking in the sights of this little village that he knew too well. He waved at Betty, manning the paper stand where Peter sometimes traded away his renderings for a couple of silver coins. She waggled her fingers at him even as Ned hotly debated at her, gesticulating wildly.

Peter saw Flash, home from serving in the knighthood. He looked so very different from the boy Peter knew as a child, hair combed neatly, bashfully talking to Glory.

“Don’t give the guy too hard a time,” Peter called to them. “He’s faced dragons less terrifying than you.”

Glory said, “I’d like to see you try it, Parker.”

“I could totally take a dragon!”

“I meant talking to _me_.”

Peter grinned and turned, nearly running into Miles, whose nose was buried in a book.

“Whoa, buddy,” he said, steadying him. “Probably best to not walk down a crowded street while reading. What if I’d been a horse and carriage?”

“If you’d been a horse and carriage, you might have killed me,” said Miles, barely managing to look away from his book. “But since I’ve met grass with more body definition than you, I think I’ll be fine.”

Peter frowned. “Someone’s sassy.”

Miles gave him a cheesy grin. “I learned from the best.”

Peter sighed. He _told_ Aunt May that babysitting was a bad idea. No one wanted him to leave an impression on the young and impressionable.

Peter carried on towards his house. He glanced up at the big mansion looming at the end of the street, and thought about walking over to it. Checking on Harry. They hadn’t talked much since the witch visited. Peter knew she had dome something awful to Harry’s father, but never found out what. Sometimes, he had flashes of it. The rain. The green. The laugh of a madman. But the memories felt like grasping water.

The witch had done something to all of them that night.

Peter stopped at his door and knocked.

“Who is it?” came a voice.

“Cupcake salesman!” Peter said.

Aunt May laughed and opened the door, throwing her arms around Peter. He held her close. His home wasn’t the building. This was his home.

Aunt May ushered him inside. It wasn’t cold out at all, but she still produced a thick wool blanket and forced it around his shoulders and then forced a cup of steaming tea into his hands. Peter sipped it, making a face at its scalding bitterness.

“So?” Aunt May asked, settling into the love seat opposite him. “How was your day?”

Peter fished in his pocket for the five silver coins he earned from Jameson that morning and pushed them across the table to her.

“Here,” he said. “I swear it’s legal.”

“Peter, no, keep it,” said Aunt May.

“I don’t need it! What do I need silver for? I’m doing fine on my own.”

“Maybe you could finally take Mary Jane out,” said Aunt May with a smile that was soft and wicked at once.

Peter downcast his eyes.

“What is it?”

He debated how much to tell her. But he didn’t think he could lie to her. At least not about this.

“I tried to kiss MJ,” he admitted. “She fell out of a tree.”

“And . . . where were you?”

“Also in the tree.”

Aunt May closed her hand around Peter’s.

“Mary Jane loves you,” she said.

“Not the way I want her to.”

“In the only way that matters.”

Peter looked down again. He knew, in his heart, that Aunt May was right. But then he thought of MJ’s hair and her freckles and her smile, and he wasn’t sure he could live with the only kind of love that mattered.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Peter and Aunt May met each other’s eyes.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.

Aunt May shook her head.

Peter stood. He grabbed a poker from the fire and held and it high above his head. He crept closer to the door. Before the witch, before the Faeries, before Uncle Ben, Peter would not have thought twice about opening the door to a friendly face from the village. But now, he questioned everything.

_One. Two. Three._

Peter threw open the door, poker raised, ready to beat or stab anyone who so much as looked at his aunt funny.

“Hello,” said Jonathan, son of the House of Storm, and Prince of all of Fantastica. “I’m going to let you know right now – metal? Not a good bet against me.”

Peter dropped the poker.

 

Prince Jonathan was in his Aunt’s house. Prince Jonathan the Brave was sitting across from him, looking gorgeous and windswept, except for the shadows under his eyes. Prince Jonathan, the Queen’s beloved younger brother, currently made small talk with Peter’s aunt while she poured stew into a couple of bowls.

This. Was too. _Weird._

“I bet you have some questions,” Prince Jonathan said when Aunt May had settled into a seat and they all had stew in front of them.

“A few,” Peter admitted.

“Well, I live to please. So – yes, my hair is naturally this color, no, you can’t touch it, and I am definitely willing to autograph and/or kiss any babies that might be in the vicinity, depending on whether or not they’ve gotten had measles yet.”

“That . . . did not answer a single question I had." 

Prince Jonathan frowned. “Oh. Then what are your questions?”

“Um, well, maybe, I guess I’ll start with, _what are you doing here?_ ”

“Huh. That’s a good question too.” The Prince sipped a bit of his stew and his eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! This is _amazing!”_

Aunt May blushed. Peter thought that he must be very hungry if he thought that Aunt May’s corn stew was _amazing._

Prince Jonathan greedily gulped the remaining stew until Peter cleared his throat.

“Oh, yes.” Jonathan patted his lips with a ratty cloth like it was the finest linen. “What am I doing here? You see. Well. How do I put this?”

“Try saying it,” Peter said, his patience fraying.

“Ah, well, okay. Fantastica is doomed.”

“. . . what?”

Prince Jonathan couldn’t seem to contain his energy any longer and he stood to pace around the tiny kitchen. He looked even stranger now, dressed in crushed blue velvet and surrounded by dirty pots and pans, like something from a storybook that had waltzed off the pages.

“You see, King Victor, from Latveria, has always had a bit of a – a _thing_ with my family, especially Reed. They go way back. So anyway, Vic waltzes in last week and takes my family hostage, seizes control, yada yada. But me, I was on a date, you see – it didn’t go well if you were wondering – but whatever he did to them, I don’t know, because I can’t get into the castle. And I don’t think anyone can get out.”

Jonathan stopped where he was to stare at him. Peter stared back.

“And so . . . you’re here . . . because . . .?”

“Well, because I talked to the White Queen, from the Xlands, she’s renowned for her prophetic visions, and she told me to find the Spider!”

“You came here to find a spider?”

“Not _a_ spider. _The_ Spider. You!”

Peter looked at Aunt May like, _do you have any idea what this guy’s talking about?_ Her frown deepened the wrinkles on her forehead.

“Sweetie,” she said, “what do you mean that Peter’s a spider?”

The Prince looked between them. “You mean – you don’t know? She said you would know.”

“Know _what_?” asked Peter.

The more they talked, the more frantic the Prince became. “Have you ever even heard of the Spider?”

Peter and Aunt May shook their heads.

“The Spider is – well, I’ve never met him, personally, but the legend is that he’s a masked man who can climb walls and spin webs, and he fights forces of evil during the night. It is rumored that he has taken on far greater threats than Doom and I thought perhaps – the White Queen said you alone know how to find him.”

Aunt May clucked. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry for your family. But Peter and I have lived in this small village our entire lives. Whoever you’re looking for – he’s not here.”

But something, a memory, was stirring in Peter’s mind. It couldn’t be – and yet –

“When this White Queen told you to find me,” Peter said slowly, “did she give you my name?”

“No,” said Jonathan. “She drew a picture, with her mind, don’t ask, so I could ask around about him and let me tell, trying to find ‘twenty-something man with brown hair’ is not easy –,” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper, then flattened it again the tabletop. Peter bent over it. It was a lead sketch, done in a delicate hand of a person’s face. It did look like Peter. It looked exactly like Peter. Almost.

“That’s not me,” Peter said.

Jonathan snatched up the drawing, looking from it to Peter’s face. “What do you mean it’s not you?”

“I mean it’s not me. But I know who it is.”

Jonathan looked up. “You have to take me to him.”

“Huh?”

“I need the Spider to defeat Doom and he –,” he shook the drawing, “is the only one who knows who the Spider is, and where he might be. And you are the only one who knows who _he_ is.” Jonathan reached out and gripped Peter’s shoulder. “I need you take me to him. The fate of Fantastica depends on it.”

Peter stared into the Prince’s eyes. If someone had told him this morning, that Jonathan the Brave would show up and proclaim that he _needed_ Peter, that Peter was the only person who could stop Fantastica from utter doom – he would have socked them in the jaw, probably.

“Now wait just a minute –,” said Aunt May.

“I’ll do it.”

Aunt May lips parted incredulously and a grin stretched across Jonathan’s handsome face.

“I’ll take you to him, to that man,” said Peter. The words sounded insane out in the open, and he kept talking, as if that might make them more real. “It’s the only way, right? If I don’t, then an evil king keeps his control of Fantastica and – and you’ll never see your family again. I’ll do it, I’ll take you.”

“Peter,” said Aunt May, and it broke Peter’s heart to hear the tremble in her voice. “You’re a good boy, a brave boy, but I will not allow you to do something so foolish as traipse across the kingdom on a wild goose chase because some handsome prince showed up and asked. This could be dangerous. King Victor von Doom – I may be old, but I’ve hear the stories of his treatment of the Latverians. This a job for – a professional, not –,” Aunt May wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. “I have lost your parents, and your uncle, and I will not lose you too.”

Slowly, Peter took Aunt May’s hand.

“Uncle Ben always used to tell me that if you have the power to help, you have the responsibility to help. Now, I have the power to help the entire kingdom! That includes me. It includes you.” He squeezed her hand. “What would Uncle Ben do?" 

She shook her head. “You’ve always been the best of us, Peter.” 

Peter wanted to argue – there was no part of him that was as good as May or Ben, no part of him that could possibly be better – but Jonathan cut in.

“So it’s settled then!” he said. “It’ll be an adventure! Gather your things, travel lightly, and get a good night’s sleep – we’ll leave at the crack of dawn.” Jonathan clapped Peter on the shoulder, kissed Aunt May’s hand (she totally blushed), and bounded to the front door, new vigor in his step. Peter followed behind him, thinking of something he could say, but for once, he came up blank. Jonathan swung the door open – and Flash Thompson stumbled inside. Behind him, it seemed the entire village stood, most of them ogling the Prince, but a few having the decency to look embarrassed.

Mary Jane stood to the side of the door. Her eyes moved from Peter, to Jonathan, and back again.

“Wow, Tiger,” she said. “Looks like _someone_ hit the jackpot.”

 

Before dawn, Peter tiptoed down the rickety stairs of Aunt May’s home, trying not to wake her. He didn’t live here anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave for the night. So he packed the few possessions he had – a couple changes of clothes, his sketch pad, a can of chocolate coated pumpkin seeds – and made his way to the door.

 His efforts at being quiet were for naught, given that Aunt May was already awake, sitting before a crackling fire.

“I can’t watch you leave,” she told him, “but I can’t let you leave without saying goodbye.”

He hugged her as tight as he dared. Too tight, probably, but she gave just as good as she got.

“I’m coming back to you,” he promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Aunt May patted his cheek. He kissed her forehead. And then he slipped out the door.

The sky was a musky gray-blue that normally meant people were still asleep, but today, the village crackled with liveliness. It wasn’t often that one of their own went on a grand quest to help the Prince, and everyone wanted to see him off. Peter had never been so popular before. He went to the stables, where he had agreed to meet Prince Jonathan, who had spent the night in the inn.

Even from afar, Peter could see him, like a flickering flame in a black night. His gold and blue doublet shone, probably more expensive than anything in the village, except perhaps for the entire Osborn Estate. He he a sword slung across his hip in an elaborately detailed sheath.

He seemed to be paying Kraven, the horse master, for the use of two of his finest horses. When Kraven caught sight of Peter, he scowled. At least one thing hadn’t changed.

The Prince turned to see Peter, and his easy grin brought an early dawn. Peter thought that if _his_ entire family – which basically consisted of Aunt May and MJ – were being held captive by an evil king, he wouldn’t find so many reasons to smile.

“Peter!” said Jonathan. “This fine gentleman was just telling me about the time you stopped him from hunting the Queen of Attilan’s prize bulldog.”

“It was a big enough to be a real bull,” Kraven grunted.

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “I’d forgotten about that. This place isn’t much, but we get a lot of travelers.”

“I’m sure she appreciated it,” said Jonathan. “The Attilans and I are quite close, I’ll bring it up the next time I see them. I dated their Princess, you know. And their Queen, actually. The King doesn’t like me much.”

Peter wondered how someone could be so – blasé about having dated a Princess and a Queen. If Peter ever dated Mary Jane, he wouldn’t let anyone hear the end of it.

“Oh, well, like he has room to judge. It’s not like they’re _my_ cousins. So, do you have all your affairs in order?”

Peter rattled his knapsack. Jonathan’s plucked eyebrow climbed.

“That’s all you’re bringing?” 

“You told me to travel light!”

“Light, not homeless.”

Before Peter could respond, he heard his name called. He turned – just in time to get an armful of Liz. She peppered kisses all over his face, like something from his teenage self’s fantasies.

“Be careful, okay?” she said. “I will totally never forgive you if you die.”

“How can I disobey an order like that?” Peter asked, carefully untangling himself from her.

Glory hugged him and Flash shook his hand. 

“You’re a brave man, Pete,” said Flash. “I’m proud to know you.”

Weirdly, that made Peter a little choked up. Flash always picked on him when they were kids, but now he was proud of him? It was pretty strange. And nice, too.

Flash moved on to shake the Prince’s hand – he was employed by the royal family, after all – revealing Mary Jane.

She stood there in her plain clothes, with a neckline a bit too low for anyone’s comfort, but just right for hers. She stood there with the freckles Peter could spend hours counting and the smile he had spent hours trying to capture on paper. She stood there like the realest thing Peter had ever known.

“You were always the adventurer out of the two of us,” he said. “You can come, you know.”

She shook her head. “I want my own adventure, Peter. I want to be the hero, not the damsel you save.”

Peter looked down at his shoes. Sometimes, it felt like MJ only had two ways of speaking: avoidance and brutal honesty.

“I haven’t been trying to save you, have I?” he asked.

“I think you’re always trying to save everyone. Why else would you be doing all this?”

She gestured to the horses and his bag and the Prince. Peter wanted to protest, but he didn’t know the real answer.

He hugged her instead, memorizing the feel of her body against his.

“Save the world for me, Peter,” she whispered in his ear and he laughed, despite everything.

After MJ, Betty hugged him, and Ned clapped him on the back, and Robbie Robertson shook his hand. Even Jameson had come out of his paper stand to grumble something about how maybe Peter wasn’t completely useless all the time. Peter looked around the gathering of people, but didn’t see Harry anywhere. He didn’t know why that surprised him.

Prince Jonathan, for his credit, allowed Peter to say his goodbyes to the village, even though they were on time constraints and Peter would likely be back by this time next week. But when he was done, he gave Jonathan a nod, and together they climbed onto their horses.

 “Ready, Sir Peter?” Jonathan asked with only a touch of irony.

 “Ready as ever,” said Peter, and they walked on just as the sky turned pink.

 

The first thing Peter noticed was that Prince Jonathan _really_ liked the sound of his own voice. Peter was probably not one to judge – Jameson had once told him that the minute he met someone who could spew as much bull crap as Peter was the minute he retired. But Jonathan prattled on about whatever suited him – usually, himself. Perhaps that was unfair. He talked about his family a lot, too, and Peter tried to remember how difficult it would be if he lost his family. He tried to be – gentle. Peter was not good at being gentle.

The second thing Peter noticed was that he . . . was not really a horse person. Jonathan sat astride his palomino as if he belonged there, but Peter bounced uncomfortable, pain springing up in places really not meant to feel pain. There were times when he considered asking to take a break from riding, or to walk alongside his horse, but then Jonathan would look at him with the barest hint of a smirk, as if daring Peter to give up, and Peter would grit his teeth and ride on.

“How long did you say the ride to Houstonia is?”

“About three days.”

 Okay. Peter could do anything for three days.

They travelled deeper into the woods, along a paved pathway. The canopy overhead grew so thick that barely any sunlight trickled down.

Peter remembered how, just yesterday, he had climbed a tree with MJ. He had made her laugh. And he had tried to kiss her.

_I want to be the hero, not the damsel you save._

The Prince must have read something on Peter’s face because he said, “Don’t worry. We’ll get to Houstonia, you’ll point me in the direction of the man you say knows the Spider, and then you can be on your way! Your girlfriend won’t even know you’re missing.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Peter said.

“Really? The last time a girl kissed my face that much, we wound up engaged.”

“What are you – do you mean Liz?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot you had so many ladies hanging off of you that I’d need to specify.”

Peter snorted. Jonathan looked at him, his eyes lit with something like good will.

“You are . . . not what I expected of a Prince,” Peter mused.

“I imagine I am much better looking,” said Jonathan.

“Well – sure – but you’re, I dunno, I suppose I always imagined royalty as more –,”

“Serious?”

Peter wasn’t sure that was the exact word he was looking for but he nodded.

“You sound like my father,” said Prince Jonathan, the barest hint of bitterness working its way into his tone.

Peter cleared his throat. “Prince Jonathan –,”

“Johnny.”

“Hm?

“Call me Johnny, please. Mega Stud if you must, but that’s as formal as I’ll allow.”

“Johnny,” said Peter, testing the name. He never imagined the royal family going by nicknames and it made him want to smile.

Johnny glanced over his shoulder and gave a slight smile, as if he could read Peter’s thoughts.

“I promise I’ll do what I can to help your family,” Peter swore. “To help the kingdom.”

“I know you will,” said Johnny. “I have complete faith in you.”

They had only just met, and yet, somehow, Peter believed him.

 

 Around the time that the sun had reached the highest point in the sky, Johnny and Peter drifted into a patch of sunlit dirt, with a log thick enough for them to sit. They decided this was as good a place as any to rest.

Peter plopped down on the log while Johnny fed the horses a couple carrots he had stashed away.

“If you feed them all the treats now, there’ll be nothing left,” Peter said, sounding suspiciously like his uncle.

Johnny raised his eyebrow, reached into his bag, and pulled out two more carrots. It reminded Peter of Aunt May or MJ or someone else with twice the amount of character Peter had.

Peter munched on some of his chocolate covered pumpkin seeds, watching Johnny brush a hand through his palomino’s mane. He looked gentle, like Peter didn’t see most men allow themselves to be. Harry looked down his nose at others so he wouldn’t get hurt (fat lot of good that did him). Flash was course because he’d never been taught how else to be. Robertson could be kind, but keeping up with Jameson required its own tenacity. Ben was a man of the Earth, good, but not soft. And Peter could barely remember his father.

 _You’re not what I expected,_ Peter thought again, but he’d already said that, so he let it echo within him.

 

They were on the road again within the hour, Peter’s irritated junk turning into a constant ache.

“I’m never going to have kids after this,” Peter said. “The Parker line dies with me.”

“Just give it a couple of days, you’ll be good as new,” said Johnny. “But I wouldn’t – you know – for a little while.”

“You wouldn’t what? Ride more horses?”

“ _No_ – relieve yourself.”

“I’m definitely gonna have to pee at some point. I gotta go now –,”

“Relieve yourself _sexually_ , I mean.”

Peter’s eyes widened and, almost unbidden, dropped to his lap. “Oh.”

“I went on a long ride once when I was pretty young and, you know, kind of _always_ in the mood. And I’d been riding for hours and I came upon this field that I thought it would be a fun place to –,”

“A field?” Peter squawked. “Where anyone could see?”

“I was young!” said Johnny, but he didn’t sound as contrite as he should have. “And, anyway, let’s just say it wasn’t fun for _anyone_.” He wrinkled his nose. “So much chafing.”

Peter snorted, torn between horror and amusement. Thoughts slipped into his mind of a teen Johnny, thinner than he was now, with brighter eyes, laying out in a field. His blue velvet clothes and golden hair and dark gold skin surrounded by bright poppies and lush green grass. Johnny would lay down, thrilled with himself at riding out here all on his own, blood coursing and cheeks flushed. He’d drag a hand through his hair and let it trail down his waistcoat, smiling a little as his finger tweaked a nipple, and then –

 _Slow down, cowboy,_ Peter thought.

Johnny was right about one thing. An erection on a horse would suck.

 

It was near sunset when Peter and Johnny rode into town.

“A captain of the knighthood lives here,” Johnny said. “He’ll allows us to stay the night.”

Peter thought that was a pretty big assumption to make – in his town, you paid or you left – but then again, he wasn’t the Prince. He supposed there were different rules when you were royalty.

As they trotted down the path bisecting the village, the hair on Peter’s arms and neck seemed to stand on end as if a gust of cold wind blew over him. He whipped his head around just in time to see a man in a long cloak aim his wand at Johnny.

“Look out!” Peter shouted. He lunged from his own horse to push Johnny to the ground. He heard a startling smack of Johnny’s head against stone, the clamor of hooves running away, and shouts, and curses – but all that was dull compared to the rush of Peter’s blood. He shot to his feet and took off running after the wizard, who fled the scene, his wand shooting sparks the whole way.

“Get out of here!” Peter shouted at the still gawking bystanders. The wizard tried to dart into an alleyway, but seemed to stumble on the hem of his own cloak, giving Peter the time to jump up, grab the awning of a shop, and let it swing him feet first into the wizard. The wizard toppled over and Peter, miraculously, landed on his feet. He kicked the wand from the wizard’s sight before he could reach for it.

“I don’t need it, you know,” said the wizard. “I know plenty of wandless magic, do you take me for an amateur?”

“You didn’t exactly look professional.” Peter hauled the wizard to his feet and shoved him against the brick of the nearest building. “You better get talking, buddy. I don’t feel like playing nice anymore. Who are you?”

“Ugh, what _ever._ ” He made a big show of rolling his eyes. “I’m the Wizard.”

“I know you’re a wizard, I saw your wand.”

“Not _a_ wizard, _the_ Wizard.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure it works like that.”

“Of course you aren’t, you unmagical toad. What do you know about the higher arts?”

“Big talk from the guy pinned up against the wall. Who sent you?”

The Wizard rolled his eyes again. “Who else? Since you’re his bodyguard or consort or whatever, I assume the Prince told you all about King Doom.” 

“King Doom sent you? To take out Johnny?”

“To bring him back, of course. He promised me command of my own group of magic-wielding knights. Like he _ever_ follows through on his promises. You think a guy would learn.”

Peter frowned, processing this bit of information. He heard the sound of approaching hooves and then a man on a tall black horse with a short mane appeared in the mouth of the alley.

“That’s the man who attacked the Prince?” asked the man.

“Yes, sir,” said Peter.

“Take him away.”

For a second, Peter thought he was talking to him, but then a number of knights swarmed the alley, pushing Peter aside as they bound the Wizard in chains.

The Wizard sighed. “Listen, kid, never let the King of Latveria talk you into _anything_.”

“Will do,” said Peter, as the Knights forced the Wizard into an armored carriage.

Peter watched them go. He didn’t even realize that the man on the horse was still with him when he said, “Impressive.”

Peter looked up. The man’s stark silver hair and strong jawline might have made him seem old otherwise, but in this setting, upon that tall horse, he only seemed impressive. Peter didn’t even feel right looking at him from the ground.

“Your capture of the Wizard,” said the man. “You have training?”

“Uh, no,” said Peter. “I don’t know how I – it was the adrenaline, I think.”

“And how did you know he was going to attack the Prince?”

Peter shrugged, thinking of his hair on end, the gust of cold wind. “About a year ago, I had a run in with a witch. Maybe I’m sensitive to magic now.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” said the man, still seeming unconvinced. “I am Sir George of the House of Stacy. And you?”

“Peter. Parker’s house.”

“Fetch a horse for Peter,” Sir George told one of his men, but Peter quickly shook his head.

“No more horses. I’ll walk.”

Sir George clearly thought this was a strange request, but didn’t argue. Peter followed the knights back down the road. He wondered how exactly he had chased down the Wizard. He wasn’t a clutz, but he’d never been meant for the knighthood like Flash, and he didn’t have the easy grace of Harry, or even MJ’s seemingly boundless energy. Adrenaline. It must have been. But that didn’t explain how he somehow knew the Wizard was going to attack.

They reached a large house, not quite the size of the Osborn mansion, but nothing to sneeze at. Sir George dismounted his horse and a man immediately began to lead it away. Peter wondered whether he was supposed to stay or not when a girl flung open the doors and hurtled into George’s arms.

“Daddy!” she said. “I was so worried – after last time –,”

“Please, Gwendolyne, we’re in public.”

George’s voice sounded brisk, but Peter didn’t miss the way he gave the girl in his arms a quick squeeze.

The girl pulled back, and Peter could see she wasn’t much of a girl at all, but rather a young woman, about Peter’s age. Her dress was a simple light blue, spun with silver thread, matching her eyes. Pieces of her fair hair were twisted into an intricate weave, while others hung free. She held herself like Peter imagined Queen Susan would. 

“Pardon me,” she said, with a curtsy and dip of her head.

“It’s – fine,” said Peter, a little lightheaded.

“Is that Peter?” yelled a voice and Peter’s head snapped up.

“Johnny?” he called.

“Oh no, he only just sat down –,” said Gwendolyne, but then came the unmistakable rap of boots on a marble floor.

Johnny’s face appeared in the doorway. “ _You_ ,” said Johnny before he was throwing himself at Peter much like Gwendolyne had at George.

Peter stumbled backward, more from surprise than physical force.

“You absolute madman,” said Johnny. “What were you thinking?”

Johnny pulled back to stare into Peter’s eyes. They were much too close.

“That – I had to save you,” said Peter.

A grin, almost painful in its unbridled force, spread across Johnny’s face.

“You,” Johnny said.

“You said that already,” said Peter.

Sir George cleared his throat and Peter, flushing without knowing why, pulled out of Johnny’s grasp.

The four went into George’s home, Johnny limping a little. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Peter said, voice soft. 

“You saved my life,” said Johnny. “The rest is a flesh wound.”

In the living room, Peter helped Johnny settle onto a lush sofa. He went to put some space between them, but before he could, Johnny fingers encircled his wrist, forcing him to sit. Their sides pressed together. Sir George sat on his own chair across from them and Gwendolyne hovered over his shoulder.

A woman came into the room and immediately dropped into a deep curtsy.

“Your highness,” she said.

“Lady Helen,” said Johnny. “You are looking lovely as ever.”

“Thank you, Sir,” said the woman, a slight pinkness to her cheeks. Her eyes shot to Gwendolyne. “Darling, I sincerely hope you aren’t bothering your father or the Prince.”

Gwendolyne inclined her head, as if to apologize, but Johnny said, “Gwen’s no bother. Frankly, I’m pleased to have someone around who dresses as well as me.”

A little smile tugged at Gwen’s mouth, but her eyes remained downcast, awaiting her parents’ approval.

“Well,” said Lady Helen. “If your father is certain . . .”

“Leave the girl be, Helen,” said George. “She’s doing no harm.”

Lady Helen pursed her lips, but inclined her head all the same. She curtsied once more to the Prince and left the room.

“Scoot over, Peter, let the Lady sit,” said Johnny, pushing his shoulder into Peter’s.

“Like you weren’t the one who wrapped your tentacles around me,” grumbled Peter, but he shoved aside so Gwen could have room to sit on Johnny’s other side.

“We’re pleased you’re here, Your Highness,” said George. “Although this is rather last minute.”

Johnny nodded. “I know, and I apologize. I’m grateful for your graciousness.”

“And might I ask what the reason for your visit might be?”

Johnny relayed most of what he had told Peter yesterday, including that they were on a quest to find the only man who could defeat King Doom: the mysterious Spider.

“The Spider?” Gwen cut in, eyes wide and wild. “I’ve met him!”

“Gwen, not now –,”

Johnny turned to Gwen. “You have?”

“Yes,” she said. “It must have been – half a year ago.”

“Your Highness,” said George, “six months ago, my daughter was in a rather traumatizing situation, and ever since then, she has held fantastical ideas. She’s been seeing the greatest healers this side of the kingdom, and I thought they were _working_ –,”

“I know what I saw!” said Gwen. She turned to plead with Johnny and Peter. “I’m not crazy, I promise.”

“You’re _sick,_ Gwendolyne –,”

Johnny held up a hand, silencing Sir George. It was the first time Peter really thought he looked not merely beautiful and wealthy, but powerful, too. The captain of the Knights was stopped in his tracks with nothing but a wave of Johnny’s hand.

“What did you see?” asked Johnny.

“It was late,” said Gwen, in a hushed voice as if she had never been permitted to speak this story in more than a whisper. “I was – exploring. I do that sometimes, never far, just the woods surrounding the village. I like to catalog the plant and animal species and, um, study them, I suppose?” George sighed a little and she flushed. Peter supposed it must be stifling to be the daughter of a man with so much power. Perhaps there were expectations. The only person Peter knew who compared was Harry, and his father didn’t care much about him either way.

Gwen forged on. “So I had travelled a bit farther than usual. There were these strange animal tracks and they led me to a bridge, crossing a river. I figured the creature must have crossed the bridge because the tracks simply disappeared. Either that, or it fell. So then _I_ began to cross, when all of a sudden, a goblin attacked me.”

Peter sat straighter in his seat. “Goblins aren’t typically violent.”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I thought! But he had to have been a goblin – he was green with yellow eyes and huge wings, like a bat. And he came and lifted me into the air. He must have been – sick, or something, there was a certain madness in his eyes, and I struggled and – he dropped me. And that’s when the Spider appeared.”

Both Johnny and Peter leaned closer. There was something about Gwen that pulled, something about the sweetness of her voice and the cleverness in her eyes. Peter felt like the tide, and her story was the moon.

“He had six arms and he seemed able to climb the tallest trees effortlessly. A blood red mask was pulled over his face. He shot webbing out of his fingertips, like a real spider would. He saved me.” She shook her head. “He saved me.”

“Why do you sound so upset?” Johnny asked.

Gwen blinked, as if she hadn’t expected him to ask that. As if no one had ever asked that.

“The Spider is – a hero, perhaps,” said Gwen. “But he’s not good.”

“What do you mean?” asked Peter. Something about the story sat weirdly in his stomach like he’d eaten old goat cheese. “He saved you, didn’t he? And you don’t think he’s good?”

“He’s got dark magic. I watched him fight the goblin and there were moments when I couldn’t tell who was who. The goblin was insane, but the Spider was _dark._ The goblin could have killed me, but the Spider was a killer. He didn’t pull his punches or wait to see if I was well. And he taunted the goblin. They taunted each other, I can still hear their voices. I wish I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” said Johnny, gentle as ever. “But, please, if you can find it within you – do you know who he might have been, or how he could help me drive out Doom?”

Gwen shook her head. “It all happened so fast. Perhaps only a power as dark as the Spider can counter a power like Doom.”

“Perhaps,” said Johnny.

“Please, Your Highness,” cut in Sir George. “Do not take these ravings so seriously. My knights and I saved Gwen at dawn. If the Spider was there – if he even exists – he was long gone before then.”

“I have to believe he exists,” said Johnny. “For the sake of my family.”

Peter wondered at how he didn’t say _my kingdom._ But then Peter thought that if the choice was Aunt May or watching Fantastica burn, he knew what he would choose too.

Lady Helen stepped back into the room. 

“Your Highness. Sir Peter? Would you join us for dinner?” 

“Yes,” said Johnny. “Thank you.” 

He stood and immediately swayed. Peter jumped up to steady in him. 

“Perhaps you should rest,” Peter said. “Your head –,”

“Dinner first.” Johnny squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Our hosts have so graciously prepared a meal for us.”

 _He really is something,_ Peter thought, until he noticed Johnny’s crooked grin.

“I know you were raised in a barn, Pete, but please, basic hospitality.”

 Peter rolled his eyes even as made Johnny walk by himself to the dining room.

 

Peter helped Johnny settle into the bed that the Stacy servants had prepared. Johnny said that he could do it himself, but Peter thought he liked the attention. 

“You were too pampered as a boy,” Peter told him, pushing the jacket from his shoulders. “You don’t know how to do anything by yourself." 

“That has nothing to do with servants and everything to do with my sister,” said Johnny moving to unbutton his waistcoat. “You may recall, our parents died when I was rather young?”

Peter could recall the news of the Queen’s passing, followed soon by the King’s. But Peter could not remember much about them. It didn’t seem that the rulers of Fanastica truly mattered much to the people until Susan became Queen and married King Reed. Peter had been young himself, and only remembered pieces of life before the current King and Queen, but he remembered enough.

“Susan made certain that I didn’t grow up feeling raised by the servants. Even as she was being groomed to be Queen, she made sure that she knew she was my sister first. I think it gave her something to focus on as well. If I had been older – she probably would have become a psychopath.” He snorted. “Never mind what would have happened to me . . .”

“Give me a break. I can see how much you love taking care of things.”

Johnny looked up at him in surprise.

“The horses,” said Peter. “And you were basically ready to adopt Gwen.”

“Her parents are too hard on her, I’ve always thought so. It’s like they’ve never met a girl who enjoys reading!”

“See? Bet you can’t wait to have little princes and princesses of your own.”

Johnny smiled, so soft it made Peter’s heart ache. “I already do.” Peter raised his eyebrows. “Not like that! I mean – I’m not technically a Prince, you know? I’m a Duke, like Ben, now that Sue has kids of her own. But Franklin and Val – they’re my everything. The best kids anyone could ask for, and they’re not even mine.”

“Sounds nice,” said Peter. The candlelight on the bedside table flickered, casting long shadows upon Johnny’s face, highlighting the sharpest parts of him. “You must miss them.”

“I do. More than anything. You want to hear something crazy?”

Johnny looked up at Peter through his thick lashes. Peter swallowed.

“Sure,” he said.

“Victor von Doom is _technically_ Valeria’s godfather.”

Peter choked on his saliva. “ _What_?”

“I know, I know,” Johnny said. “We have a – complicated relationship with him.”

“The man who is currently holding your family hostage and probably torturing them is your niece’s _godfather_?”

“To be fair, he’s probably only torturing Reed. Franklin, Sue, and Ben are locked in the dungeon, and Val definitely has all the ponies and tiaras and evil magic gizmos she could ask for.” 

Peter burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. He tried to school himself, but he saw Johnny beginning to smile as if, even though it was terrifying to be locked away from his family, with no one but an evil overlord as their company – tonight, in the candlelight, he could acknowledge that the thought was rather ridiculous. Like something out of a story. Like something that wasn’t happening to him.

“That reminds me,” Peter said. “The Wizard told me that he had been hired by Doom to bring you in. Why would he want you back?”

Johnny stared at the flickering flame of the candle.

“Johnny,” Peter hedged. “Do you know why?”

“I’m a bit lightheaded,” said Johnny. “Help me undress?”

“I – oh, uh. Sure.”

Peter reached out to untie the laces at Johnny’s neck, fingers grazing the soft skin. Johnny began to lift the hem of his shirt and Peter helped pull it over his head, exposing the smooth expanse of his skin. He was subtly muscled, but Peter’s eyes tracked the bruises wrapping up his side. It had been a long week for him, and Peter hadn’t made it better by pushing him off his horse.

Peter laid a hand on Johnny’s side right over the bruise. Johnny didn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.

“My pants,” said Johnny.

“Huh?”

“My pants, help me with my pants.”

Right. Johnny wanted to sleep. He didn’t need Peter pawing all over him like some kind of weird bruise fetishist. 

Peter helped Johnny pull off his pants and then – there was so much skin. Peter turned away. 

“I’ll let you sleep,” Peter said.

“Peter,” Johnny called after him. Peter turned halfway. “Dawn, tomorrow?”

 “Dawn,” Peter agreed, and went to his own room.

 

It was perhaps the nicest room Peter had ever stayed in, the nicest bed he had ever been near, and yet he couldn’t sleep. He stayed awake in the candlelight, sketching from memory. A male torso. The shading of a bruise.

“You draw?”

Gwen stood just beyond the doorway in her sleep clothes and dressing gown. Peter felt abruptly exposed, shirtless above the covers.

“A little,” Peter said. “I do renderings mostly, and sell them to the local paper for extra silver.” 

Gwen walked into the room and Peter quickly flipped to the first page, away from Johnny’s bruises. She sat lightly on the bed beside him. Peter tried to breathe as she slipped the sketch pad from his fingers. 

“Your parents?” she asked. 

“My aunt and uncle.” 

Gwen flipped through the book, frighteningly silent, until she lingered on another drawing. 

“Who’s this?" 

“My friend, MJ. We were going apple picking, but she’d worked the night before. To this day, she swears she didn’t fall asleep under that tree. She was just resting her eyes, and not moving for an hour and a half.”

Gwen’s fingers brushed the charcoal, MJ’s hard edges softened by sleep.

“She’s beautiful,” Gwen breathed.

“She is,” Peter said. And then, because he never knew what to say to a pretty girl – “So are you.”

Gwen smiled a little, and Peter could tell she was pleased. 

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” Before Peter could answer, Gwen asked, “What are you to him?” 

“To who? The Prince?”  Gwen nodded. “I’m – no one. His guide, if anything. I know someone he’s looking for.”

“He looks at you like you personally make the sun rise each morning.”

Peter snorted. “We only met yesterday." 

“I only met the Spider for a moment. Sometimes that can be enough.”

“You really think the guy’s that bad?” Peter asked. “I mean, he – he saved you.” 

“I believe in rules,” Gwen said. “I believe in nature. There is nothing natural about him.”

“I don’t think your parents think there’s much that’s much natural about you.” Gwen shot him a dark look. “Sorry, that was – out of line.”

“You’re not sorry,” huffed Gwen. 

“And how do you know?” 

Peter liked Gwen, she was very pretty, and she seemed nice and smart, but something about her irritated him, too. She was too smart, and she knew it.

“Because I think you’re like me, and I wouldn’t be sorry.”

He side-eyed her. He couldn’t see how he and Gwen were alike at all. For one, look at the difference in how they lived.  Gwen was much more like Johnny than Peter. 

Gwen pushed the sketchpad back into Peter’s hands. “I hope you tell MJ you love her soon. Someone else might get there first.”

Peter’s eyebrows crept higher. “You know, I’ve never met someone both so pretty and so insistent that she knows everything.”

“Hmm, you must not know many people then. It’s always the pretty ones.” 

“My uncle told me to be careful of pretty girls.” 

“And my father told me to be careful of charming boys.” Gwen gave a final smile, and Peter couldn’t decipher it for the world. Maybe that was the biggest difference between her and Johnny. She only showed him what she wanted to show him, and Johnny couldn't help but show him everything. “Sleep well, Peter.”

She was gone, leaving Peter to his drawings and his thoughts.

 

Peter woke to the soft breeze drifting across his face. He grumbled to himself – he couldn’t even remember opening a window last night and now the wind was waking him. Typical. 

He rolled out of bed and trudged over to the window. Before he could close it, he saw Johnny, fully dressed, talking to Sir George and Gwen as they stood with their horses. Johnny caught his eye and waved. Peter waved back. And then he stumbled over himself to pull his pants on, grab his stuff, and run down the stairs through the door. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Peter asked. 

“I thought you were already awake,” Johnny said. “I passed your doorway – you must have been really huddled under the covers.”

Peter shook his head. He was usually way more responsible than this. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing a good long day of horseback riding can’t fix, eh, Pete?” Johnny laughed at Peter’s disgruntled growl.

They thanked Sir George and Lady Helen for their hospitality. Johnny kissed Gwen’s hand and when Peter turned to Gwen, she surprised him by pulling him in for a hug.

“I hope to see you again someday,” Gwen whispered. “Be weary of the Spider, won’t you?”

“Sure,” said Peter. “And you as well.”

Peter climbed onto his horse and with final waves and thanks, they trotted out of the village.

“You and Gwen seemed close,” remarked Johnny, a strange tension in his voice. “How long was I out last night?” 

“It’s funny, I could have sworn she hated me.” 

“I would commiserate with you over how crazy women are, if I didn’t think my sister would find a way out of her Doom torture cell just so she could knock some sense into me.”

“I don’t think women are crazy!” Peter protested. “But Gwen is a little – intense.” 

“Mmm, nothing intense for you. Peter Parker – you are an aloof gentleman. Cool as a cucumber.”

Peter cast Johnny a dark look, and Johnny’s mask seemed to split as if he simply couldn’t keep a smile inside himself any longer.

“I could be aloof,” Peter said. “We’ve only just met. You have no idea how aloof I can be.”

“Hm, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Peter puffed up his chest. “Johnny –,”

“Yes, nicknames, very aloof.” 

“Your _Highness_. Good sir. Fellow handsome – but not too handsome, don’t get any ideas –  gentleman of the royal court of Fantastica –," 

“That last one’s a bit much.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I kind of liked it. My new chosen title.”

“We should inform the Kingdom.”

“If Doom doesn’t get the memo by the time we meet up again, I’m gonna _lose it._ ”

Peter cracked. Johnny smiled at him like making him laugh had been his only desire this whole time. Peter’s heart spasmed.

 _So much for aloof,_ he thought.

 

They found a river some time past noon and allowed their horses to drink from it. Or rather, Johnny led the horses to the water and Peter sort of hovered by a tree where his horse wouldn’t kick him, like she had already attempted to when he dismounted. Johnny said it was because Peter made her nervous. He didn’t care. Plenty of people made _him_ nervous and he usually didn’t assault them.

Johnny made him nervous. In a way.

“They’re really not so bad, if you treat them well,” Johnny said, patting his palomino’s neck.

Peter aggressively stuck his hand into his bag of chocolate-covered pumpkin seeds. He hadn’t eaten this morning and he got even hungrier after being attacked.

“Maybe I’ll get a dog,” Peter said. “A small one. MJ likes dogs." 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder. “Do you live with MJ?”

“No . . .”

“But you plan on living with her?”

“I, uh –,”

“Because otherwise, it wouldn’t matter whether or not she likes dogs.”

“Well, I, you know, want her to visit.”

Johnny was quiet, petting the horse methodically.

“I like dogs,” he said at last.

“Oh . . . kay . . .”

 _What a weird guy,_ Peter thought, a little fond. He liked that the Prince of Fantastica – his home – was kind of odd. It made him, and the whole Kingdom, feel more real.

 “So,” Johnny said. “This guy that lives in Houstonia.”

“Ah. Him.”

“He looks exactly like you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But with better hair.”

“Hey, now.”

“There a reason for that?”

“Sure there is.”

Johnny waited.

“Oh, did you want to hear it?” Peter asked.

“Don’t get cute.”

“That’s a lot to ask of me.”

“I’m aware.”

Peter stared hard at Johnny, but he didn’t turn.

“He’s a changeling,” Peter said.

That made Johnny react, his eyes widening to small moons.

“You have a changeling?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So one time, a Faery came and replaced you with a carbon copy of yourself until your parents found out and made some sort of dark bargain to get you back?”

“Two times, actually.”

Peter took a sort of dark satisfaction in the way Johnny’s jaw dropped.

“We call it the Parker Luck,” he said. “These kinds of things just seem to happen to me.”

“Huh,” Johnny said. He rested his hand on his horse’s rump. Peter wondered if Johnny could possibly understand things like changelings, and being vulnerable to the will of the Faeries. And then Peter remembered that Johnny’s entire life had been upheaved by an evil King, and he felt awful for thinking that Johnny couldn’t possibly know pain.

“What’s his name?” Johnny asked.

“Kaine.”

“Kaine,” Johnny repeated. “Kaine Not-Parker.. Kaine Parknot”

Ha. Kaine Parknot. Peter thought Kaine would get a kick out of that. If Kaine actually ever got a kick out of anything. Besides, possibly, plotting Peter’s own death.

For the first time, Peter thought about actually seeking out Kaine in Houstonia. He . . . probably should have sent a note.  

 

Peter and Johnny trotted along the coastline, the setting sun casting the water in rosy hues and making the sand shine golden. Johnny said he had a friend who lived by the ocean, but they had emerged out of the trees onto the beach an hour ago, and still saw no sign of a coastal village. Peter was almost okay with that, if it meant he could be alone with Johnny, coated in warm sunlight with nothing but the crash of waves to distract him from Johnny’s occasional jokes.

“I think we’re here,” Johnny said, bringing his horse to a halt.

Peter looked around. This place was completely deserted.

“Um, Johnny? Are you feeling okay?”

But Johnny didn’t give into the bait, rather looking out at the horizon. Peter followed his gaze. He saw nothing but water and birds and perhaps a few dolphins jumping in the distance. But then he saw one of the dolphin coming closer and soon realized it wasn’t a dolphin at all – but a woman with a long, scaly tail, leaping through the waves as a dolphin would.

 _Mermaids,_ Peter thought in awe.

Peter had never met a Mermaid. He lived too far inland, and besides, they preferred to keep to themselves. Atlantis was an ally of Fantastica – sometimes – but the Atlantians had never been much for acting like allies.

Flash had gone to Atlantis once, and he said not everyone there was a Mermaid. Some of them were just . . . fish . . . people.

“Nita!” Johnny called, a smile stretching across his face. He dismounted his horse and ran to the water as the Mermaid washed up on the shore. She beamed, teeth as bright as the sea foam.

“Johnny,” Nita said. Her eyes flicked up to Peter, still astride his horse. “Johnny’s friend.”

“That’s Mr. Johnny’s Friend to you,” said Peter.

“This is Peter,” said Johnny, but he didn’t look back at him and something about his tone made Peter’s insides squirm. “You received my message then?”

“Duh. Atlantian post is way more efficient than land post, when will you ever get that?”

“And? We can stay with you for the night?”

“Duh,” Nita said again, grinning. And then she leaned in and kissed Johnny on the lips.

Peter couldn’t look away. He saw the way Johnny’s hand came up to her shoulder, flexing on the supple, scaled armor. The kiss wasn’t much, their lips unmoving. Still, Johnny’s hands were kind, and Peter wondered – he wondered –

Nita broke away with a smack. She grinned at Johnny and ruffled his hair. He immediately stumbled away to try and fix it.

“You’re about to go underwater, calm down,” she said. She turned her blinding smile on Peter. “Get over here, handsome.”

“Uh, for the record, I’m not really into –,”

“Peter, kiss the lady,” Johnny said.

Peter scowled. Normally, he liked kissing pretty girls. But they weren’t usually being watched by a prettier boy who Peter was a little afraid might punch him or decide his kiss face was ugly or something.

He moved forward and bent down until he was face to face with Nita. She wasted so time, grabbing him around the neck and fusing her lips to his. There was nothing soft or romantic about it. Her breath tasted like salt. Something cold began to curl in Peter’s lungs, filling them up until he had to pull away and choke. It felt like he had been caught in a wave, but the wave was inside him. He couldn’t breathe.

He felt a warm hand on his back. “You get used to it after a while.”

“You do this a lot?” Peter managed to rasp.

“If Fantastica needs to send an envoy to Atlantis, we usually send my sister. But I’m the backup. The King likes me almost as much.”

Nita snorted. “You could say that. Feeling better?”

He was. It still didn’t feel . . . right, but Peter felt the wave calming down. He could stand again.

Nita blew into the horses’ ears.

“Wait, you can do that? Why did you kiss us?”

“I don’t tell you how to do your job,” she said.

Nita stored their bags in her own seaweed bag for safekeeping. Peter and Johnny climbed back on the horses. Peter was not sure what kind of horses they were riding that were so cool with wading into the ocean, but whatever. Who knew what Kraven fed these things.

“So we can breathe underwater now?” Peter asked as his feet started to dip into the water. “I am definitely not going to drown?”

“As long as you don’t get eaten by a shark,” Nita said.

“Sharks do not eat people,” Peter said. “No more than Mermaids do anyways.”

“Ha ha,” said Nita. She didn’t sound like actually thought it was funny. Peter got that. Most people – and, he assumed, Mermaids – were not quite on his level of wit.

They descended into the water, which wasn’t as cold as Peter would have expected. Peter probably would freak out, but the horses didn’t even act like this was out of the ordinary. Peter wasn’t going to be the wimp here. Not when Nita was looking so impressive with her biceps and flowy hair.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Johnny said. “I know it’s weird, but don’t do it.”

As his horse sunk into the water, Peter fought not to cough against the ocean entering his nose. He closed his eyes tight on instinct. _Don’t close your eyes._ The water washed over his head, and he opened his eyes again.

Everything was tinged slightly green. He caught sight of Nita’s tail stirring bubbles behind her, fluid and strong. Silver fish flitted by Peter’s face, so close he could feel the tiny ripples against his skin. He glanced around, lost and overwhelmed – and there was Johnny. His hair flowed in the water like swirling yellow paint. He gave Peter a grin, white through the green and Peter felt as if he’d left his stomach up on land.

They made good time, carried away by the current. Far ahead Peter saw the luminous palace of Atlantis.

He wondered what Johnny’s palace looked like. He’d never seen it. Never felt a need to. Suddenly, it was all he wanted, to be where Johnny lived, see where he grew up.

Well. Not _all_ he wanted.

They entered the kingdom with its pearly buildings and jewel floors. Peter didn’t even understand why you would bother with floors when everyone swam everywhere.

Nita led them to the palace. The guards immediately lowered their spears upon seeing her and the doors drifted open. She swam into the palace and they followed.

“The King will want to see us,” Johnny explained. His voice sounded strange down here, but Peter could understand every word. “It’s only polite.”

They approached another set of doors with another set of guards. _Paranoid, much?_ Peter thought, but then he remembered Johnny’s situation and supposed that there was a certain threat that came with being royalty.

“Code?” one of the guards asked.

“Storm,” said Nita.

Johnny groaned. “Is he doing this _again_?" 

“He just changed it last week,” said Nita. “Jim Hammond decided to return to the surface world and he was feeling petty.”

“It’s still not healthy,” Johnny grumbled.

The doors opened and they swam into the most ostentatious room Peter had ever seen. It was inlaid with emeralds and rubies and sapphires, brightly lit despite being at the bottom of the ocean. At the head of the room, on a raised dais, sitting in a pearl throne, was a Mermaid. He was shirtless – which Peter didn’t fully understand, since every other Mermaid Peter had seen wore clothes. He had perfected “dark and brooding” more than any person Peter had ever seen, except perhaps, for Kaine.

“King Namor,” Johnny said, slipping from his horse. He dipped into a bow at the King’s feet. “It is a pleasure, as always.”

“Prince Jonathan,” said Namor, looking vaguely interested. He didn’t even glance at Peter, who wondered if he should bow too. “I must say I was surprised to receive your letter. It’s been so long.”

“Only two years,” Johnny said. “I understand you’ve been busy. There was a war with the Xlands?”

“A misunderstanding, it turns out,” said King Namor. “They simply wanted my advice on how to best handle some of the more aquatic members of their Kingdom. I perhaps, acted . . . strongly.”

“You? Never.”

Nita snorted, but Peter kinda wanted to yelled at Johnny to get the hell out of there before King Namor actually did eat him. But the King simply flicked an eyebrow upward.

“You still have your charming sense of humor, I see.”

Johnny grinned. “And my good looks.”

King Namor hummed. “Speaking of which, how is your sister?”

“Still married, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Namor huffed, but didn’t deny it.

“Actually, Namor . . . Sue’s in trouble.”

Namor sat straighter on his throne. “How so?”

“There was an attack by Victor von Doom of Latveria. He’s holding my sister hostage. I’ve been traveling about to find a way to stop him, but he’s attempted to bring me back by force.”

“Scoundrel,” Namor growled.

“I hope we can count on your support should it come to war between Fantastica and Latveria,” Johnny said.

“For the House of Storm, always,” said Namor, surprising Peter with the ease of his pledge.

Johnny bowed his head. “Fantastica thanks you for your loyalty and courage. And I thank you for your hospitality.”

Namor snapped his fingers and a servant appeared to collect their horses. Peter barely had time to slip off his own horse before he was being led away.

“Nita, show Prince Storm to his quarters. You will be collected for dinner.”

And then Nita was swimming away, quickly followed by Johnny. Peter could tell they didn’t want to test the King’s patience and he awkwardly swam behind them.

Nita showed them to adjoining rooms with a wink before swimming off. Johnny swam into his room but the door remained open. Peter followed.

The room had a beautiful oyster bed, though Peter couldn’t even comprehend how one slept underwater. What if a wave carried you off in the middle of the night?

“I hope it won’t come to that,” Johnny said, and Peter looked up at him, wondering if he’d somehow heard what he was thinking. “War, I mean. If the Spider is truly what Emma said he is, then it shouldn’t come to that at all.” Johnny sat on the bed, bouncing a little from the buoyancy.

“What if he’s not?” Peter asked.

Johnny stared at him.

“Gwen didn’t seem to think so,” said Peter. “She said he’s unnatural.”

Johnny flopped back on the bed. “So are lots of things. Water is unnatural.”

That startled a laugh from Peter. Bubbles floated in front of his face. “What?”

“I hate it _so much,_ Peter. I hate the ocean _so much._ ”

Peter floated forward to sit on the edge of Johnny’s bed. “But you seemed so . . . pleasant. Excited, even.”

Johnny shook his head. “I’m a diplomat. I have to be. But, honestly, it’s awful. Especially since –,”

He didn’t go on.

“What?” asked Peter.

Johnny shook his head. He reached over and took Peter’s hand. Their fingers tangled together and Peter knew he didn’t have to breathe right now, but he held his breath anyway.

“Thanks for coming with me, Pete,” said Johnny. “I don’t know how I’d survive if you weren’t here.”

“You’d be fine,” said Peter. “I’m nothing special.”

Johnny kissed the inside of Peter’s wrist, right above his pulse point. A friendly gesture. Peter wondered if he could feel how quick his heart thrummed.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Johnny said.

  

Peter’s dreams came in flashes. He was running through a forest. No – swinging. He was swinging from tree to tree chasing something. Someone. A flash of green, always out of reach.

And then there was Gwen, twigs in her hair, dress ripped. “ _Please don’t hurt me_ ,” she whispered. Peter didn’t want to hurt her.

Gwen morphed into MJ. She touched his face. “ _Who are you?_ ” Peter didn’t know.

And then he saw his uncle, running, running, Peter was running, swinging, he couldn’t stop swinging, he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t –

Breathe, he couldn’t breathe, water gurgled in his lungs, his eyes rolled back, he couldn’t breathe.

“ _What’s happening to him?_ ” someone yelled – Johnny, it was Johnny, Johnny was beside him, holding him, he would be okay so long as Johnny was there.

“ _I don’t know! The only way the magic would be broken would be if he went to the surface!”_

“ _Why would he – that doesn’t make any sense!”_

Lips on his, breathing air into him and sucking it out again.

_“It’s not working! There’s magic in his blood that’s counteracting mine, you need to find whoever cast the spell!”_

_“We need to get him to the surface. Magic leaves a trace –,”_

_“Whoever did this will feel it.”_

The dream shifted and there was a woman with electrifying silver hair and Peter knew her. He knew her but he couldn’t place her. She rode a stallion, black as night, and her cloak billowed and she smiled and Peter knew her.

“ _It’s your lucky day,”_ the woman said.

“ _Don’t trust her_!” he yelled, but no one listened and instead Johnny begged, “ _Save him_.”

And the woman pressed a chalice to Peter’s lips and white hot liquid was burning him from the inside and he drifted into dreamlessness.

 

 Peter awoke to drips of water rolling down his face. His hazy vision picked up golden hair, as someone pressed a damp cloth to his forehead.

“Johnny . . .” he murmured, voice rasping in his throat.

“Not quite.” That wasn’t Johnny’s voice, not at all, and Peter’s vision cleared.

“ _Ben_?” he asked. He tried to sit but his ribs ached.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Ben said, pushing him down again. “You’ve been through some rough shit the past few days. Or so I’ve heard.”

Peter allowed his eyes to drift around the hut, with walls of mud and a roof thatched with leaves.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Houstonia. Don’t you recognize it?”

“We . . . made it?” His brow furrowed. “Do you live with Kaine now?”

Ben waved him off. “It’s complicated. There’s not much of a community out there for changelings, you know. But yeah, you and your prince made it, Pete.”

_You and your prince._

Peter didn’t allow Ben to hold him in place, forcing himself to his feat and bursting through the curtain of leaves. Surrounding him were similar mud huts, all gathered around a fire pit. And at the fire pit sat Johnny, deep in conversation with Kaine. Peter hobbled over to him.

“Parker,” Kaine said when he glanced up at Peter. “Nice of you to join us.”

“ _Peter_ ,” Johnny said, pushing himself to his feet.

“Ribs,” said Peter when it looked like Johnny might throw his arms around him.

Johnny nodded and embraced him gently. Peter let himself hold him, not even minding the way Kaine’s dark eyes watched them like he knew Peter, inside and out. He didn’t know the first thing about Peter.

“I was so worried,” said Johnny. “I thought – I _thought_.”

“I’m okay,” Peter said. He wanted to know what had happened, but now didn’t seem like the best time. “We made it to Houstonia.”

Johnny pulled back, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck to keep him in place. “Why did I even bring you around huh? To find Kaine, and you were unconscious when we found him.”

Peter untangled himself from Johnny to get a good look at his changeling. “You live with Ben now?”

“It’s complicated,” Kaine said.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Don’t start that shit, Parker. Being a changeling – it’s not like I’ve got a family. Not like you, okay? So whatever, your other, more boring changeling wants to shack up for a while? Sure. We can pretend to be brothers. But it doesn’t change our nature. I still have no family.”

A tiny ball of dark hair and skin tackled Kaine from behind.

“He looks just like you,” the girl loudly whispered. “Are there three of you now? I’m _so excited._ ”

“Aracely,” Kaine grumbled, “I’m busy right now. Can you go bother Donald and Wally or Julia or someone? Please?”

She thought about it. “Okay,” she said. “But only because Donald and Wally are so much _cooler than you_.”

She pecked him on the cheek and ran off as fast as she had come. Kaine watched her go with something of a brotherly fondness.

“Oh yeah,” Peter said. “You’re a real man of darkness.”

Kaine immediately glowered. “Shut up, Parker. Or I won’t tell you what I told your boy about the Spider.”

Sobering, Peter sat with Johnny close beside him. “You’ve been talking about the Spider?”

“No, we’ve been talking about about our hair,” said Kaine.

“I forgot how much fun it is to be around you. I really did.”

“You’re not exactly a walk in the park either,” grumbled Kaine.

 “I guess we _are_ technically the same person.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Was the exact copy of my face not enough reminder for you?" 

“I generally balance it out with my actually bearable personality.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it –,”

“ _Boys_ ,” said Johnny, a smile tugging at his lips. “Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

“Right right,” Peter said. “Tell me, oh wise one, what do I need to know about the Spider? Do you know who he is?” 

Kaine flopped back down on the wooden log, legs stretched in front of him. “Yup.” 

Peter and Johnny waited. 

“And . . .?” Peter said when Kaine remained quiet. “Are you gonna tell us?” 

Kaine chewed on a ragged cuticle. Johnny scrunched up his nose. 

“Can’t,” Kaine said finally.

“What do you mean you _can’t_?” Peter burst. Johnny put a hand on his elbow, but Peter shook him off. “You’re seriously not gonna tell us who the Spider is? Because, what – you like having power over me, is that it?” 

Kaine said nothing, permanent scowl etched onto his face. 

“Johnny’s family is at stake,” Peter said slowly like Kaine was too stupid to understand. Because _clearly_ he was. “The whole kingdom is at stake. And, what? You don’t feel like telling us to fix everything?”

“It’s not that simple,” Kaine said, raking a hand through his wild hair. “There’s – magic. Involved. I can’t . . .” He gripped his hair as if even saying even that much caused him pain.

Peter wanted to touch him, calm him, but he was still angry, and he doubted Kaine would appreciate it anyway.

“I don’t understand,” said Johnny. His body vibrated, as if he needed to pace or shoot into the sky, away from here. “Why would the White Queen tell me to find you if you couldn’t help?”

 Kaine sat straighter. “You spoke to the White Queen?”

“She showed me your face,” Johnny said. “I thought it was Peter’s.”

“But why?” asked Ben, and Peter nearly jumped, not having heard him approach. Sometimes Ben seemed so much . . . _less_ than Kaine. It was an awful thought, but Peter wondered if Ben was a sort of – trial Changeling. A mistake before the Faeries created someone as terrible and beautiful and powerful as Kaine.

“Well,” said Johnny, “because you all look exactly the same –,”

“No, I mean, the White Queen hates Kaine.”

“All of the Xlands hate me,” said Kaine with a snort. “I tried to kill some people a while ago, it’s a long story. But what did she say?”

Johnny frowned, remembering. “She showed me your face. She said that the man who wore your face had the key to defeat Doom, and save the kingdom. I mean, I think that’s what she said? She was wearing, like, this giant cape and lingerie and it was all a lot to take in.”

But Kaine didn’t appear to be listening anymore, so busy exchanging an eye roll with Ben.

“The man who wears my face. Funny, Frost.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“She wasn’t talking about me,” said Kaine. “She was talking about him.”

Peter and Johnny looked at each other. They looked at Kaine. They looked back at each other.

“You told me that it was Kaine in the picture.”

“It _was_ Kaine in the picture!”

“Then why is he saying that it was you?”

“Why does Kaine do anything? Because he generally likes chaos and bloodshed.”

“Peter –,”

“He’s tried to murder me twice, that I know about. Who knows what else he might --?”

“I am sitting right here,” said Kaine.

“The White Queen told Johnny to find you,” Peter said, turning on him. If he was so insistent that he be a part of this conversation . . . “She said only you held the key to defeating Doom. Show him the picture, Johnny.”

Johnny dug around in his bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. Sure enough, Kaine’s inked face brooded at them, his long hair almost seeming to ruffle in an imaginary breeze.

“He’s got your hair,” Peter said.

“Uh-huh. And Frost told you to look for ‘the man who wears that hair.’ Oh wait.”

“But why would she show me you? Why not show me Peter in the first place?”

Kaine shrugged, stretching out his legs in front of him. “Because she hates me and knew I would hate my long lost brother and his dream guy showing up to pester me.”

“That seems . . .” Peter searched for the correct word. “Petty.”

“Got her in one,” said Kaine.

Johnny looked at Peter, as if waiting for him to impart all the hidden knowledge of defeating Doom.  Peter hated to let him down. But he just – he didn’t know. All he knew about the Spider was what Gwen told him. Which wasn’t much.

“She must have made a mistake,” said Peter. “That’s all I’ve got. I’m . . . not what you’re looking for.”

Johnny crossed his arms across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. Peter wanted – he wanted –

“Then there was no point to any of this?” asked Johnny. His voice cracked, and yet still he sounded hopeful. Waiting for someone, anyone, to tell him different. “My family – they could have been hurting this whole time, and I was – I was gallivanting around like I’m some hero in a _fairytale_ –”

“Johnny, I’m sorry –,”

“It’s not your fault.” Johnny dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. It broke Peter’s heart. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known,” said Peter. “The White Queen. She tricked you.”

“And I let myself be tricked!” Johnny lowered his hands so he could stare straight into Peter’s eyes. “A pretty face and a promise. That’s always been enough for me, huh?”

“Johnny . . .”

But Johnny was already walking to the hut where Peter had awoken, his head downcast and his shoulders hunched.

“Well,” Kaine said, “that was awkward.”

Peter accidentally kicked him in the shin.

 

Peter left Johnny alone for as long as he could. He talked with Kaine and Ben, and their friends too: Kaine’s funny friend Aracely, and a nice couple named Donald and Wally, and a quiet woman who introduced herself as Julia. And there were others, gathering around their own private campfires for a dinner under the stars. It was pretty amazing, when he thought about it, the little community they had managed to carve out for themselves here. Maybe Kaine and Ben couldn’t ever live a life out in the open, not when they had Peter’s face and his blood coursing through their veins. But they had this.

When bowls of soup were being handed out, Peter slipped away to the hut. Johnny sat on a cot, and in his hands was the drawing of Kaine. He stared hard at it, as if it might come to life and answer his questions.

“Don’t move,” Peter said.

Johnny glanced up, and even in the dim light, Peter could see his red-tinged eyes. But he stayed where he was while Peter rifled through his bag for his sketch book. Those Mermaids were really something – it wasn’t even a little water damaged. Peter settled across from Johnny and let the book fall open to a blank page.

It wasn’t great – he sketched quickly so Johnny wouldn’t have to hold his position too long. He focused on the high planes of Johnny’s nose and cheeks, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the slight part of his lips. When he had rendered a semblance of Johnny’s likeness, he pushed the book across to him. Johnny brushed his fingertips over his own face. 

“Am I really that old?”

“ _Johnny_.”

Johnny cracked a grin. “You’re right, I still look gorgeous.” His smile slipped. “Sad though.”

“I’d wager it’s because you are.”

“Huh.” Johnny looked back up at Peter, his eyes glossy once more. “When we save them – _if_ we save them – do you think they’ll ever forgive me?”

“When,” Peter said. “And I know they will. They’re your family, of course they will.”

“I ran away,” said Johnny. “I was there when Victor came. I ran away – to get help, I thought. I didn’t think of it as abandoning anyone, I was just trying to get help. I thought I was being _brave._ I should have stayed with them.”

“Hey, no.” Peter put his hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, anchoring him. “You _were_ being brave. You were being _smart._ If you hadn’t left, then what? Then Doom would have you caged up too. No one would notice the rulers of Fantastica weren’t out kissing babies or whatever. You never would have found me.”

Johnny’s lips quirked. “And that would have been the real tragedy, huh?”

Peter huffed a laugh. The hand on the back of Johnny’s neck felt so hot, he almost let go. But he held on.

“I think I killed my Uncle Ben,” Peter said.

Johnny’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I told you, changelings twice over. My parents, my aunt and uncle, they had to make promises to get me back. They never told me what those promises were. But a year ago, on my birthday . . . the Faeries came back. And they killed him. And I saw. And it was because of me. It was what they’d been promised.”

“That’s sick,” said Johnny. “But you can’t carry that around with you –,”

“When you become a prince again, promise me you’ll try to keep that from happening to anyone. Promise me you’ll try.”

“Peter,” breathed Johnny, “I think I’d burn down the world for you.”

Peter would have kissed him right then. He could have kissed him. He was not a boy worthy of kissing a Prince, but he would have anyway because Johnny was bright and beautiful and kind and lonely and maybe Peter had a weakness for lonely things, or maybe he had a weakness for Johnny. He could have kissed him, damn the consequences and damn the royal family. Damn it all.

But just then, Ben barged into the hut, a wild look on his face.

“I have an idea,” he said. “I know how we can save the Kingdom.”

 

Even though he was on a horse, Peter was grateful. Travelling on the back of Johnny’s palomino with his hands placed firmly on Johnny’s lithe waist had to be a lot more comfortable than Kaine and Ben on their horse. Kaine refused to touch Ben even as it made him sway precariously. He kept grumbling about how _he_ should be on front and that none of this made any sense.

“So you know who cast the spell on the Spider?” asked Johnny. “And you kept this information to yourself the entire time?”

“The spell’s magic is complicated,” said Ben. “I can’t tell you who she is. But I can find her.”

“Are we gonna wander around until you do?” asked Peter.

“Hardly. We’re headed to Faerie country.”

Peter’s whole body tensed. He was sure Johnny could feel it in the way he gripped his waist.

“ _Ben_.”

“Look, I know how much you hate the Faeries. More than anyone. But you want to save the prince’s family, don’t you?”

Peter leaned into Johnny’s heat. He thought of his uncle, who always told him that if you have the power to make a difference, you’ve gotta at least try.

“I do,” he said. Johnny took one of his hands from the reins to give Peter’s a quick squeeze.

As they travelled deeper into the forest, it began to change. A thin fog settled beneath the canopy. Light seemed to shine from the trees and plants. Peter could have sworn that patches of dirt floated upward before abruptly falling again.

“Did you see that?” Johnny whispered.

“What?”

He shook his head.

They travelled for what might have been minutes or hours. Time seemed strange in these parts.

“Halt!”

Something fell out of the sky and Johnny and Ben brought the horses to screeching stop. Peter grabbed Johnny as his horse lifted her forequarters into the air.

“Whoa, girl,” Johnny breathed, patting her neck. She nickered. “Easy does it.”

The thing that had shot down from the sky was, in fact, a woman or at least something that resembled a woman. Her pitch black hair fell around a silken mask pulled over her face, revealing only dark eyes. The save white material wove itself into a lightweight cloak draped over shoulders.

“Go no further,” she said.

Peter had that same strange sensation, a pulling in his gut and tingling on his skin. He glanced around him and saw another figure, nestled into the foliage on each side of him. A dark-skinned woman to his left, a ball of glowing energy in her hands. To his right, a woman with a black hood pulled over her face and long, black gloves. And when slowly, Peter turned his head, he found a woman whose deep orange cloak flickered as if it were made out of flame.

“State your names,” said the woman at the front. “No sudden movements.”

Johnny spoke first. “I am Jonathan of the House of Storm, Prince of Fantastica. These are my companions, Peter, Kaine, and Ben.”

The woman with the ball of energy stepped forward. “Careful, Pulsar,” warned the woman whose face they couldn’t see.

She held her energy ball upward as if to warn them. “Peter, Kaine, Ben. House of Parker?”

“Hardly,” grumbled Kaine.

“Forgive me,” said Pulsar with a smirk that shown in the glow of her energy. “Changelings of the House of Parker?”

Kaine huffed.

“Show some respect, boy,” called the woman in black. “If not for the Faeries, you would have no life to doubt the meaning of.”

“Yeah, and wouldn’t that be an improvement.”

“We’ve come to see the Cat,” said Ben. “Um. Please.”

“Doesn’t everyone these days,” said the woman in flames. She dropped to the ground. “No one ever stops by for a quick hello anymore.”

Johnny craned his neck to see her and when he did, his lips parted. Something curdled in Peter’s stomach as he watched Johnny’s eyes track the sparks flying off her cloak.

“I’m Firestar,” she said with a grin. A single ember floated towards them, landing on Johnny’s nose like a snowflake. It sank into his skin. “But so are you, aren’t you, honey?”

Peter furrowed his brow, wondering what she meant.

“I say we kill them,” said the woman in black. Peter’s whole body tensed, his attention immediately turning to her. She crouched like a tiger. “Cat never has to know.”

“The answer isn’t always _murder_ , Hellcat,” said Pulsar, her energy sizzling with agitation.

“Your name is _Hellcat_?” Kaine asked as Johnny said, “Wait, I thought we looking for a cat.”

Hellcat sniffed. “Faeries have no need for silly human naming conventions. And she’s the _Black Cat._ I technically had my name first, but whatever.”

“We have to take them to the Cat,” the woman in white spoke up. “It’s our duty. And she’s been waiting.”

 _She has_? Johnny mouthed at Peter.

Peter shrugged.

“We never get to kill anyone anymore,” whined Hellcat, even as her stance relaxed.

“Sure I can’t at least give that guy a haircut?” asked Pulsar.

Kaine scooted closer to Ben.

“No haircuts,” said the women in white. “Let’s move out.”

“This job is no fun since the Cat made Silk her second in command,” Firestar whispered to Johnny.

“I can hear you!”

“You were supposed to!”

The Faeries began to walk, bickering among themselves. Johnny exchanged glances with Ben and they urged their horses forward.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Peter muttered.

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” said Johnny. “I have to save my family.”

The Faeries led them deeper yet into the forest. The fog grew so thick that sometimes only the flow of Pulsar’s energy or the flickering of Firestar’s cloak could guide them. They came to a stop at a steep cliff that stretched for miles in every direction, including up.

“What now?” Peter asked. “Are we supposed to climb this thing?”

“Like that would be any trouble for you,” Silk said, and Peter frowned, but she was already scampering up the wall of rock as if she were some kind of insect. Far above their heads, she knocked on a stone. A deep groan emitted from the earth and Silk dropped downward as the rocks began shifted to either side, leaving a giant opening in the cliff’s face.

“And that’s why Silk is the second in command,” said Pulsar.

They walked into the cliff, Peter’s skin tingling the entire time. The inside was . . . what you might imagine the inside of a cliff to look like. Dark and damp with moss on the walls. But torches lined the way, casting long shadows. Firestar stuck her hand into a torch they passed as if it were a waterfall.

They came to a set of stone doors. Silk knocked in five short raps. The doors creaked open, and they walked into a room that might have been the size of Kraven’s barn, without the stalls. In here, it seemed as though they were in a palace. The floor was lined with thick carpets, and radiant jewels inset the stone walls. On one end was a mahogany, four poster bed, a sheer canopy falling over it. And there, a woman with stark silver hair stirred.

“Why do I smell livestock?” she asked.

“ _You_!” Peter and Johnny shouted at once. They looked at each other. “You?”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite boys,” said the Cat, stretching her long legs, rather like her apparent namesake. She pushed back the canopy and approached them. Like the other Faeries, she wore a cloak, but hers was a lush black lined with white fur. “Miss me?”

“You told me you were a witch,” said Peter. “Not a Faerie.”

“I _am_ a witch, and a Faerie. A witch is more of a job description. That horse could be a witch if she learned the right spells.”

“Peter, this is the woman who saved you,” said Johnny. “The woman . . . who . . .” Johnny gasped, tugging at his collar. “What did you do?”

“A little bit of insurance I make sure to provide every time I do some magic,” she said, looking wholly unbothered. “Can’t have anyone getting loose lips, can we? Witchcraft is still _highly_ frowned upon in most kingdoms.” She allowed herself to fall backward into a plush loveseat. “No need to thank me. Whose life _haven’t_ I saved.” 

“Mine,” said Hellcat. 

“Semantics,” Cat said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be honest, I don’t let many men into my bedchambers these days. They’re such a bore. You should count yourself lucky." 

“The luckiest,” said Peter. He wondered if Johnny could feel the buzzing of his skin.

Cat hummed. “I’d like to speak to the Parker boy alone. Ladies, please escort the others to our waiting rooms.”

Firestar took the reins of Johnny’s horse with a wink. Pulsar took the reins of Ben’s horse, allowing stray energy to singe the ends of Kaine’s hair. He growled.

Hellcat followed them. Silk hovered in the chambers.

“Be careful,” she said. Her eyes flicked towards Peter.

“Always, darling.”

Silk left the room, allowing the doors to shut with a bellow.

“You’ve found me,” said Cat. “At long last.”

“Were you with the Faeries who killed Uncle Ben?” Peter asked. “I always thought it was a coincidence that you showed up the same night as them. Or destiny, maybe, that you were supposed to help. But did you kill him? Be honest.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Peter,” she said, voice tired. It was as if, now that the audience was gone, all the showmanship was draining out of her. She looked almost real. “I’m a hundred other things before I’m a liar.”

“Did you _kill_ my uncle?” He didn’t even know he was yelling until he heard his own voice echo back at him.

Cat uncrossed her legs, her only sign of unease.

“What a temper,” she said. “If you must know, I was a part of that Faerie clan, briefly. But I had nothing to do with your uncle’s fate. I’ve always found our more murderous tendencies to be rather . . . debasing. Any fool with a well-aimed fist can kill.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Peter snorted.

“What else do you remember from that night?” she asked, eyes inquisitive and guarded all at once.

Peter swallowed. He tried not to think about that night, even though some days it was all he could think about. Even when it bled into his nightmares. But if this was what it took to help Johnny . . . 

“I remember my Uncle Ben,” he said. “And I remember kissing you.”

She smirked. “Hopefully you remember more than that.”

He did. He remembered the heat of her body against his, the thrill of being inside her. He remembered not thinking about Mary Jane, and how it might have been the most beautiful relief in the world. And he remembered seeing the wreckage that the Faeries had wrought on his family and holding Uncle Ben in his arms. And he remembered yelling for her, yelling for the witch. He found her at Harry’s . . .

He furrowed his brow. “I was going to ask you something. I needed to ask you something. Did I?” 

“Yes,” she said. “You did." 

He stared at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead she stood from her chair and went to a low bookshelf that lined a wall. She dragged her hand along the spines of books, stalling on dark green leather. She pulled it from the shelf and rifled through its pages.

“Do you know why Faeries don’t use their true names?” she asked offhandedly.

“Uh, no. I don’t give much thought to Faeries other than to think about how they killed my uncle.”

Cat stopped at a page and then, in one stroke, ripped it out. She snapped the book closed with one hand and held out the page with the other. She didn’t move, expecting Peter to go to her. He did.

He took the page and stared down at it. Its heading read _NAME MAGIC._ He began to read:

_Those who use magic or have magic used upon them must always be wary of speaking their own name. Names have a special property that acts as an incendiary to a spell, much as straw or oil will more easily ignite a flame._

Peter looked up at Cat.

“Your name is your power,” she said. “Use it wisely.”

Peter only had an instant of a flare across his skin. He tackled Cat around the waist, shielding her with his body as the doors to her chambers exploded.

Cat pushed him off her. Peter coughed up a lungful of ash, but she didn’t wait, running through the debris of the doors.

Peter ran after her. The ground beneath him shook. He had to find Johnny. That was the most important thing. Finding Johnny.

“Cat!” he heard and turned to see Silk running towards them. Her mask was pulled down beneath her chin.

Cat hugged her. “Are you alright?”

“There’s been a breach,” Silk coughed.

“I noticed. Where are the others?”

“Firestar and Pulsar are protecting the Prince,” she said. “Hellcat is with Kaine. I was to find you.”

“Where’s Ben?” asked Peter.

Silk spared him a glance before turning to Cat. “There’s been a breach,” she repeated. “It’s the Green Goblin.”

“A goblin attacked?” asked Peter, feeling way out of the loop. “Why?”

“The Green Goblin,” said Cat. “The night we met, you must know – you weren’t the only person I came across. The only person who asked something of me.”

Realization dawned on Peter, suddenly. “Harry’s father,” he said.

“It was supposed to be Harry’s father,” she said. And it was the regret staining her pretty face that made her look more human than ever.

“Supposed to?” Peter asked, already knowing the answer.

“We have to go,” Silk said, tugging Cat’s arm. Cat cast him a final sad look before running off.

“Wait!” Peter yelled after them. “Where’s Ben?”

“Right here, asshole.”

Peter turned just in time for a fist to slam into his jaw. He tried to block a second hit but his senses felt off and Ben’s knee caught him in the side. He tumbled to the ground.

“What the hell, Ben?” he gasped as Ben loomed over him.

“I would say it’s not personal,” Ben said, kicking him in the ribs. “But I’d be lying.”

“Why . . . would you . . .?” Peter’s vision swam and his jaw ached. He didn’t know Ben was that strong. He didn’t know _he_ was that strong.

“The whole kingdom’s looking for your boyfriend. Doom’s enlisted all the biggest baddies in the land to find him and he’s offering _quite_ the reward.” Ben shrugged. “Getting some sweet silver and destroying you and maybe some Faeries while I’m at it? I’m only human, Parker.”

Peter struggled for breath. Above him, Ben’s light hair looked dark from ash.

“You would . . . do this . . . to Kaine?”

For the first time, Ben faltered, looking more like the Ben that Peter thought he knew. But then his face morphed back into stone, eye blazing.

“Kaine’s not even real. The hell does it matter what I do to him?”

And then Ben brought his boot down on Peter’s face and all he saw was blood.

 

Peter’s eyes fluttered open. And he remembered.

“Johnny,” he gasped, sitting straight up. His body screamed at him, but he pushed himself to his feet. He saw the Faeries huddled together, holding a frantic discussion in low tones.

Kaine was on the ground, back against a wall. Peter’s heart stopped.

“Kaine . . .”

 Kaine’s eyes shot open, and Peter breathed.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Is that conceited to say?”

“How long was I out?”

“Only a couple minutes, I think.”

“Ben --,”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him,” Kaine growled. “I always thought he was -- I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.”

“Where’s Johnny?” Peter asked.

“The Goblin took him.”

“The Goblin,” Peter said. He ran a hand through his hair. What a freaking mess.

“He screamed for you, you know,” said Kaine. Peter glanced at him. “The Prince, I mean. He yelled for you. If it makes you feel better.”

“Why the _hell_ would that make me feel better?”

Kaine shrugged and Peter rolled his eyes. He hobbled over to the Faeries.

“Oh, you’re awake,” said Pulsar. “Thanks for all the help, by the way.”

“Sorry, I was busy getting my face smashed in by my changeling.”

“I _wanted_ to kill him,” said Hellcat.

“I’m sorry,” Silk said, her face streaked with grime and blood and tears. “I led him here. I didn’t know --,”

“You couldn’t have known,” said Cat, placing a hand on Silk’s shoulder.

“What do we do now?” asked Peter. “We have to save Johnny. And . . . the Goblin.”

“And punch Ben in the face,” called Kaine.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Faeries aren’t a very combative people . . .” said Cat.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” said Peter. “You guys killed my uncle. You made my friend into whatever he is now. You made _Ben_ into whatever he is now. And maybe you, personally, didn’t do all those things but people like you did, and maybe it’s time to stop hiding away in a mountain and take some fucking responsibility, huh?”

They all stared at him. Pulsar’s eyebrows were raised and Firestar tilted her head and a smile tugged at Silk’s lip and Peter didn’t even want to know what Hellcat was doing. Kaine’s coughing fit sounded suspiciously laughter. Cat crossed her arms, considering him, stoic.

“I’ll reverse the spell on the Goblin,” she said. “I’ll do what I can to apprehend the changeling. But you save your Prince. And understand that no one in this whole damn kingdom is my _responsibility,_ got it?”

“You know what?” Peter couldn’t help his bloody, chip-toothed grin. “I like those odds.”

 

Peter couldn’t believe that everything had only happened over the course of one night, but the proof was in the barely awakening sun that greeted them when they left the cliffside. Peter and Kaine mounted their horses, and the Faeries took to the trees and they were off.

Cat said that most humans would need a day to reach the palace (if they got out of Faerie Country at all), but the Faeries knew how to cut the travel time to a few hours. Running at full speed, Peter struggled to keep them in their sights, but Kraven’s horses were seemed to track the Faeries with ease. Every so often, Pulsar or Firestar would shoot sparks to guide them.

Peter’s body ached and he was certain the horses weren’t faring much better. He could their ragged breaths above the wind in his ears and see foam pooling at their mouths. But he had to do this -- for Johnny. Maybe they felt the same.

 _When I see him,_ Peter thought, _I’m going to kiss him so hard he’ll never mention the Attilan Queen again._

It felt like they were running in circles, but Peter trusted Cat. She was perhaps a trickster, a thief, a witch, and a Faerie -- but she was no liar.

The trees thinned and the horses ran even faster. Peter saw the long leaps the Faeries made from trunk to trunk and he heard their laughter billowing behind them. They were so free. Peter wondered how it must feel to live like that. No laws or earthly ties. No responsibility.  

Maybe it got boring after awhile. Maybe that was why they tagged along, really.

 _Or maybe,_ he thought, catching sight of Silk spinning through the air and Pulsar shrieking a laugh as energy flared around her, _you can learn something from them, too._

 

The trees cleared and there, too glorious to be real, was the palace of Fantastica.

They seemed to have walked straight into the palace’s gardens, rather than entering from the front pathway. Peter wondered if the Faeries had secret entrances to every notable place in the kingdom.

“Never thought I’d see this,” Kaine said.

“Pick your jaws off the floor, boys,” said Cat. “We’ve got a job to do.”

The Faeries led them around the edges of the gardens until they came to an offshooting turret.

“Silk, if you will.”

Silk scaled the turret as easily as she had climbed the cliff. She came to a high window and expertly unlocked it from the outside, allowing it to swing open. She climbed inside. And then a rope ladder came swinging down.

“Exactly how many times have you broken into the palace?” Peter asked.

“Who’s breaking?” asked Cat, as she grabbed hold of the ladder and began to climb. The other Faeries followed.

Peter patted his horse. “Good girl,” he said before dismounting and beginning his own climb. He heard Kaine following behind him.

As soon as Kaine made it through, Silk yanked in the ladder and Firestar shut the window.

“Okay,” Cat said. “Silk, ‘Star, and I will find the Goblin. Pulsar, Hellcat, and Kaine take Ben. Any questions?”

“Um, one,” said Peter. “Where does that leave me?”

“Saving your Prince and his family, where else?”

“Oh, sure, so you all get three on one and I just have to rescue about six people and also fight an evil King and whoever else he has to protect him. Makes sense.”

“Thank god I don’t whine as much as you do,” said Kaine.

“Trust me when I tell you you’re ready for it,” said Cat. “Remember -- names have power.”

“So what? I’m supposed to start yelling my _name_ at him?”

Cat shrugged. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

Peter really did not like this plan. But everyone else was already dispersing down the hallway.

“And break,” Peter said. “Sure. How bad could this be?”

He crept down the hall and took a left because why the hell not. He came to a spiral staircase and went downward, figuring that was the quickest way to get to the dungeons.

When he reached a landing, he took off down a new hallway, running until he reached another staircase and headed downward yet again. As he turned a corner, he ran into some kind of enchanted humanoid, floating a few inches above the floor. It took a look at him and opened its mouth to shout a warning signal, but Peter was quicker. He jumped upward, grabbed it behind the neck, and _snapped._

The thing immediately dissolved as Peter’s feet hit the ground. He stared at his own hands. Maybe Cat was right. He _was_ ready for this.

He kept making his way down through the castle, destroying the weird Doom-creatures when he got a chance. As he reached a new landing, he spotted a staircase that seemed darker and stonier than the others. He took off towards it, slowing as he approached a set of gold-encrusted doors, slightly ajar. He heard a voice.

He peeked inside and sure enough -- it was the throne room. Sitting on one of the thrones was . . . a little girl. Pacing before her was none other than King Doom, his green cloak whipping behind him, creating its own wind.

“Now we have Jonathan, I think convincing the other three to join me will be much easier. They are all together. I will give them whatever they so please. Except, of course, their freedom.”

The little girl’s eyes flickered to the doorway -- and widened. Peter placed a single finger to his lips.

“Uncle Victor?”

Victor stopped, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to speak. “Yes?”

“What is it that you want my family to do again?”

“Join the Latverian army so that we can take over other kingdoms as well, you know this.”

“And, uh, how are you gonna do it again?”

“I’ve already told you twice, Valeria, please try to keep up. I have enchanted your family so that their bodies now mimic that of the elements. Reed and water, Susan and air, Benjamin, earth, Jonathan, fire. Their powers, coupled with my own mastery of magic, make us the perfect team.”

“Oh, right,” said Valeria. “Now I remember.”

Peter gave her a thumbs up and then ducked out of the doorway.

Johnny had magic powers. Magic fire powers, by the sound of it. Peter wasn’t even that surprised. Of course there was just _that_ much more that was special about Johnny. Of flippin’ course.

Peter crept to the stairwell and then ran down it. Torches lined the walls, and a moistness hung in the air. He’d reached the dungeons.

He crept in between empty cells, a _drip drop drip drop_ of a leak his only accompaniment. He stared into every cell he past until he saw a figure huddled in a corner.

“Hey,” he whispered. The figure looked up -- it was the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” Peter said.

“Who the fuck are you?” asked Queen Susan.

“Uh, I’m Peter. Your brother might be the love of my life.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s nice.”

“Yup. So, um, do you know where he’s being kept?”

“Keep going straight and take a left at the cell with the skull in it, I think?”

“Okay, cool. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Sure thing,” the Queen said in wonderment as Peter ran straight ahead. When he spotted a cell with a skull in, he turned left – and there, sure enough, was Johnny. He was pressed up against the cellar bars, watching flame flicker up and down his hand. He was the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen.

“So when were you planning on telling me about that?”

Johnny’s head shot up, pretty eyes wide with hope.

“ _Peter,_ ” Johnny said, too shocked to smile. “You’re here. You found me.”

“Your Highness,” Peter said, crouching on the floor. He wrapped his hands around the bars and pressed his forehead to the cold metal. “I would burn down the whole world for you.”

Johnny looked like he couldn’t decide whether to cry or smile, so he did both.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Johnny said. “Vic must have done something to the cell, I can’t burn my way out. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but it just sounded so _crazy_ \--,”

But Peter was pulling with all his strength and the metal bars bent apart from each other. Johnny stared up at him, mouth completely ajar.

“I’m starting to think I’m a little crazy,” Peter said.

His skin buzzed just before a new voice said, “And I as well.”

A wave of magic crashed against him, throwing him into the bars of the cell across from Johnny’s. 

“HEY!” Johnny yelled, and Peter heard a grunt and a bang as Johnny was thrown against the wall of his cell.

Peter pushed himself to his feet. He charged Doom. Doom shot another wave of magic at him, but Peter rolled underneath it, kicking Doom’s knees and sending him buckling over. Peter lunged on him, cracking his face into the stone floor. Doom flicked his hand and Peter spiraled backwards. His head slammed into stone. Wet hotness trickles from his hairline.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down!” yelled Doom.

“I know we’ve only just met,” Peter grit out, pushing himself to his feet, “but here’s a quick lesson. I absolutely do _not_ know what’s good for me.”

He ripped a bar from from a cell and lobbed it at Doom.

“Man, this place could really use some upkeeping,” said Peter and he took off in the opposite direction.

He ducked into an empty cell, huddled in the shadows, listening to Doom’s heavy footfalls. He tried to catch his breath. He might have been way stronger and more agile than he had ever thought, but he was no match for magic.

At least not in this form.

“Show yourself, boy! Show the face of the one who thought he could destroy Doom!”

Peter closed his eyes. 

 _Peter Parker,_ he told himself. _Peter Parker, Peter Parker, Peter Parker._  

His eyes flew open.

“Sorry, handsome, didja miss me?” Peter asked, rolling out in front of Doom.

“Arrogant fool,” said Doom.

He caught Peter in his magic, sending him into the air and then slamming him back down. Doom towered over Peter, a whirling ball of magic in his hands.

“Any last words, boy?” Doom asked.

Peter thought of incendiary magic and the power of names and how anyone could be a witch if they knew the right words.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “My name is Peter Parker. And I’m the Spider-man.”

The magic hit him like an explosion from the inside. Limbs sprouted from his midsection and new eyes bulged out of his face and his teeth sharpened into fangs. He could feel his entire body changing, growing, as memories slammed into him of nights long forgotten. Swinging across the kingdom, saving those who needed saving and punishing those who needed to be punished. Climbing walls, weaving webs, destruction, rebirth. And the first night, out in the rain, on his knees, clutching a Faerie witch’s cloak in shaking hands and begging, _Make me something more._

The Spider grabbed Doom is two of his hands and threw him across the hallway. And then he scampered off. 

“So you are a monster, born of dark magic!” yelled Doom. “Even you cannot defeat me alone.”

 _Not alone,_ thought the Spider. He shot out webs that wrapped around the bars of a cell and yanked. The bars clattered off and out stepped a Queen. 

“Oh, Victor, honey,” said Queen Susan, her form flickering in and out of view. “You messed with the wrong lady’s family.”

As Doom turned the corner, Susan shot a wave of invisible energy at him, sending him tumbling back again. The Spider ran down another of hall of cells, finding one that contained a man whose entire body seemed to be made of stone. 

“Hey,” the Duke called. “Hey, you, wuss goin’ on?”

The Spider yanked these bars away. The Duke immediately stumbled out and took off running in the direction of the fighting, not sparing a second glance at the Spider. 

“Thanks, buddy!” he yelled.

Now the Spider was in search of a final man. And he found him.

This cell was complete, solid stone. There were no bars, so the Spider one of the cell walls to dust with his bare firsts. As the debris settled, the King’s shocked face emerged.

“I’ve heard stories of your valor,” said King Reed. “How did you find us?”

But the Spider ran back to the action and King Reed followed, hot on his heels.

“Hello Sue, hello Ben,” said King Reed. “It’s been an odd week, wouldn’t you say?”

His long, strange arms snaked toward Doom, leaving Doom with no choice. He turned and ran. But then a wall of flame erupted across the hallway and Doom stopped short.

“Huh,” Johnny said, flexing his fingers. “I could get used to this.”

 

The Royal Family fighting together was something out of a legend. The Spider helped with his strength and his cleverness, but they really were the perfect team. Air, water, earth, fire.

Soon, Doom was bound in the Spider’s webbing and too exhausted to even fight against it. And then four Faeries appeared in a hole in a partially exploded wall. They took in the scene and the Cat said, “The one time I try to be a good person, they hardly need my help. Makes sense.”

The Duke and King carried Doom out of the dungeons and into the front gardens where the Captain of the Knights, George Stacy, awaited. He gazed at the Spider with barely concealed awe.

“I _knew_ he was real,” the Knight Flash Thompson whispered from where he was draping a blanket around the shoulders of a shivering Harry Osborn, whose clothes were torn and whose skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat.

Kaine watched an armored carriage carting away a prisoner. Ben met his gaze through the window and held it, neither daring to look away first. 

Doom was loaded into his own carriage, vowing to avenge Latveria once and for all.

“Ah, Victor, never change,” said King Reed.

Queen Susan couldn’t seem to stop touching her brother, checking for any harm that might have befallen him three times over. 

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, you brave doofus,” she said. 

“ _You_ were the one who got locked up immediately,” grinned Johnny. “I made it a whole week.”  

Duke Benjamin punched him in the arm, a little too rough with his new rocky fists.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

The King and Queen turned at the sounds of their children’s calls. Franklin and Valeria threw their arms around their parents and the Duke sniffled in an entirely manly way.

The Faeries had gone, though no one was certain when.

Johnny drew the Spider back into the castle. They settled into a shaded alcove and the Spider closed his many eyes.

When Peter opened his eyes again, it was to see Johnny’s soft smile. His hands cradled Peter’s face.

“Hi there, hero,” said Johnny.

“That’s what my friend Mary Jane always told me,” said Peter. His lips felt chapped and his tongue thick. “She told me I always have to be everyone’s hero. Maybe she wasn’t wrong.”

“Maybe,” said Johnny. “Or maybe you just have to be mine." 

Peter smiled. “We should get married.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “Sorry?” 

“You and me. We got through this, and I think we deserve to get married." 

“I’ve only known you about three days.”

“You know that at night I apparently change into a spider monster and fight other monsters. I didn’t even know that.”

“I think you’ll leave me when you discover how much time I spend on my hair.”

Peter rubbed his nose against Johnny’s. “Who you tryin’ to convince, huh?”

Johnny’s fingers locked behind Peter’s neck. “I guess a happy ending does sound of kind of nice . . .” 

“Who’d’ve thunk?” asked Peter, and when he kissed Johnny, it was something like magic.

  

 

 

EPILOGUE:

 

“Didn’t you suck each other’s faces enough during the actual ceremony?”

Peter broke apart from Johnny with a smack.

“Don’t be jealous, Val,” he said. “You’ll find true love someday too.”

“Gross,” she said and ran off to play with her friends.

“I remember being like that,” Peter said, locking his arms around Johnny’s waist. “Don’t you?" 

“Not at all.” Johnny nuzzled Peter’s neck. “I was born trying to lock down a man.”

“She’s right, you two are so gross.”

“We literally got married ten minutes ago.” Peter spun around. “Give us a – MJ!”

MJ shrieked a laugh as Peter swung her in a circle. “Put me down, you creep!”

Peter dropped her and she punched him in the arm. “Not _that fast_. Hi, Johnny, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Mary Jane, you do as well. I love the rose-colored dress with your hair.” 

MJ blushed. “Hold onto that one,” she told Peter.

“Counting on it.” Peter’s eyes drifted to the man hovering at MJ’s shoulders. “Harry, hi.”

“Uh, hey, Pete,” said Harry. He looked over the golden throne room, the wedding band, the chocolate fountains, the guests all dressed in expensive gowns and coats. “This is quite the joint you’ve found yourself in. Makes me feel poor.”

Peter smiled crookedly. “You look good, Harr." 

Harry smiled back at him. “I feel good.”

“You guys are so _serious_ ,” said MJ with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a party! Come on! All three of you owe me a dance.”

“I owe you nothing, Mary Jane Watson,” said Peter.

“Now _that_ is the biggest lie that ever did cross your lips.” And with a wink, she dragged Harry out to the dance floor. 

Johnny dropped back into his chair. “It’s like I’m invisible. This is a wedding reception for the both of us, right? I was definitely there. 

“Aw, honey,” said Peter. “The royal family of Attilan is definitely here for you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

They turned to see a large of group of people with unconventional hairstyles and clothing milling by the wedding band. None except Johnny’s ex, the Princess Crystalia, sported anything less than a severe frown.

“You’d think someone had died,” pondered Johnny.

“Their chances with you sure did,” said Peter, and Johnny half-heartedly swatted at him.

A woman in a pale blue gown approached their table and identical grins stretched across Peter and Johnny’s faces.

Johnny bounced to his feet to pull Gwendolyne into a hug. “Oh, okay,” she said, allowing him to hug her for a moment before extricating herself.

Peter kissed Gwen’s hand and she rolled her eyes. “A charmer to the end." 

“It can’t be helped. Ask my husband.”

“Ignore him,” said Johnny, pulling both Gwen’s hands to his chest. “We’re so happy you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss an occasion of such grandeur,” she said. “Especially since I was practically the reason you two got together at all.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Gwendy.”

Gwen crinkled her nose at the nickname. “My father sends his condolences for not being able to attend. Other matters require his attention, it would seem. The life of a knight . . .”

“So you’re alone?” asked Johnny. “You didn’t run into any monsters, I hope.”

“Not yet,” she said with a smile. “But the night’s still young.”

A flash of ruby hair caught all their eyes and Gwen’s face lit up.

“Is that your friend, Mary Jane?” asked Gwen. “She’s lovelier than your drawings would suggest.” 

“You’re walking on thin ice, girly girl,” said Peter but Johnny simply said, “Isn’t she? You should ask her to dance!”

“Oh, I don’t know --,” 

“You must! Maybe _this_ is why you survived the attack of the truly horrible Spider!” From behind Gwen, Peter scowled, but Johnny was on a role. “So that you could ask that pretty girl over there for a dance!” 

“I don’t really --,”

“Introduce her, Peter,” said Johnny.

“Johnny --,” Peter and Gwen said, but Johnny pouted and they were both suckers. So Peter led Gwen to where MJ, Harry, and Flash were dancing in a group to a jaunty tune.

“You guys,” Peter said, “this is Gwen Stacy. She doesn’t know how to dance, or something.” 

“That’s not _true_ ,” Gwen huffed. A wicked grin spread across MJ’s face.

“We can’t have that can we,” MJ said, pulling Gwen towards her. “Pretty girls always need to know how to dance. It drives the boys wild. 

Gwen giggled a little as MJ spun her under her arm and passed her off to Flash, whose dancing was not nearly as good as his handsome face might suggest.

Feeling as though he had done his good deed for the year, Peter meant to walk to back to Johnny, but he caught sight of a lone figure at an empty table. He walked towards him instead.

“Did you even try to comb your hair?” Peter asked.

“No,” said Kaine. 

“Thanks for the honesty, I guess. I didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“I was picking up Aracely.” Kaine nodded towards the teenage girl in a flowy green dress, who was holding a goblet under the chocolate fountain. “And I, uh, I visited Ben this morning. 

Peter arched an eyebrow. “Oh? How is he?”

“He’s, you know, he’s taken up meditating. Trying to work through his anger. But his roots are starting to show, so it’s pretty difficult.”

Peter grinned. “Well, I hope he figures things out. 

“Me, too,” said Kaine. He glanced up at Peter. “Hey, since you’re royalty now, and I’m you, does that make me royalty too?”

“You’re not me, Kaine,” said Peter. “Find your own prince.”

“You can’t even return to _your_ prince,” grumbled an all too familiar voice and Peter turned to his still adorably pouting husband.

“Kaine, do you mind if I take this pretty fella out to cut a rug?” Peter asked.

“By all means,” said Kaine.

Peter took Johnny’s hand and led him out to the dance floor just as the wedding band began to play a slow song. The company seemed to part as Peter and Johnny took their place in their midst. Peter placed a hand on Johnny’s waist and Johnny pressed his head into the crook of Peter’s neck and they twirled in a circle, in the middle of it all and yet completely alone.

“I peeked at the wedding gifts,” Johnny whispered.

“You’re awful,” said Peter, no heat in his voice.

“My sister and brother-in-law got us pots and pans. The cheapskates.”

“Is this a hint not to use their kitchen anymore?”

“They let _Ben_ use it,” Johnny grumbled. “And Namor sent a framed drawing of himself, addressed only to me of course. Nita at least sent socks. Do Mermaids think humans only accept gifts that involve feet?” He perked up. “Oh, but Cat and her Merry Band of Faeries sent a gift too! And it is going to be _very_ useful later tonight.” 

“Nothing like magic Faerie sex toys,” Peter agreed. 

As they spun, he caught sight of his Aunt May, currently being waited on by no less than three handsome young princes. She caught his eye and winked. He winked back. 

“We should send the White Queen a muffin basket,” Peter pondered.

“Does she even eat muffins?” asked Johnny. “Or is every meal made only of diamonds, lightly sautéed with children’s hopes and dreams?”

“Since when are _you_ the morbid one?” 

“Since I decided to spend the rest of my life with you,” Johnny said with a cute smile. 

Peter understood that. A couple dozen years with himself had made him pretty morbid, too. But he had Johnny in his arms and his friends and family surrounding him and, hey, this song was pretty catchy. They twirled and twirled and twirled. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm up to talk about how cool it would be to be a giant spider on [tumblr](http://bipeteparker.tumblr.com/)!


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